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Agnes’s Little Sister, 


Frontispiece, 
Page i8q 


/ 




DOROTHY DOT 


ELIZABETH WESTYN TIMLOW 

Author of “Cricket,” “Cricket at the Sea-Shore” 
and “ Eunice and Cricket.” 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

HARRIET ROOSEVELT RICHARDS 


(71 Y 



THE READING CLASS— i8 

NEW YORK i .S 

E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 
31 West Twenty-third Street 
■ 1898 



12712 


Copyright, 1898 

BY 

E. P. DUTTON & CO. 



TWO COPIES RECEIVEr, 

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CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — AT grandma’s ..... 7 

II. A Tv, SCHOOL ...... 20 

III. THE PINK SUNBONNET ... 29 

IV. A NEW CROP ..... 46 

V. A NEW FRIEND ..... 66 

VI. ALGERNON . . . . . . 78 

Vn. SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS ... 88 

VIII. — A PIECE OF MISCHIEF .... I08 

IX.— THE RESULT . . . . . 1 20 

X. THE LITTLE BLACK CHEST . . .128 

XI. — Dorothy’s sacrifice .... 149 

XII. THE FUNERAL OF A MOUSE . . 163 

XIII. AGNES’S LITTLE SISTER . . . 180 

XIV. PLAYING' SCHOOL ..... I97 

XV. THE END OF THE YEAR . . . 2 l 6 


V 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

AGNES’s LITTLE SISTER . . . Frontispiece 

THE READING CLASS ..... Title 

DOr’s GARDEN ...... 59 

WHAT WAKES ME SO MUCH BADDER THAN 

O'I'HER ROYS, ABBIE ? ” .... 87 

THE PARROT . . . . . - 1^5 

DOROTHY STOOD STILL AT THE CORNER . I37 


VU 




DOROTHY DOT. 

CHAPTER I. 

AT grandma’s. 

W HOA, there, Polly ! Stand still. 
Tommy ! ” said grandpa, trying 
to make his restless horses stand quietly, 
while the big black engine and long train 
of cars tooted and puffed up to the station. 
With Polly plunging, and Tommy dancing, 
it was not easy to see if grandma and 
Dorothy had arrived, as expected. Finally, 
grandpa had to drive away from the sta- 


7 


8 


Dorothy Dot. 


tion and around the circle, to calm down 
the horses, and as he came back there 
stood little Dorothy and grandma on the 
platform. 

“ I Ve earned. Grandpa ! ” called Doro- 
thy, eagerly. “ Did you know I was going 
to stay free months or a year ?” 

“Hullo, Dorothy Dot!” called grand- 
pa, in return. “ So there you are ! Come 
here and hold these horses, Sam,” and 
grandpa sprang out of the carriage as the 
station-master took hold of the horses’ 
heads. Dorothy jumped into his arms at 
one bound, and hugged and kissed him 
till his hat came off. 

“ Whoa, Dorothy Dot ! ” he exclaimed, 
then, “ I ’ll have to get Sam to come and 
hold jfou, I think. Now let’s get your 
luggage together, and we ’ll be off. Had 
a pleasant journey, Dorothy?” This was 
to grandma, as he helped her into the 
carriage. 

“Yes, very pleasant,” said grandma. 


At Grandma’s. 


9 


“ The family leave to-morrow. No, there 
is nothing but the trunk and this bag. 
Now put Dorothy in, Grandpa,” and in 
went Dorothy with a fine, high swing, 
right beside grandma. Then her small 
trunk was put in front beside grandpa, 
and they were off. 

Six-year-old Dorothy lived in New 
York, and had just arrived for a whole 
year’s visit to grandma. This happened 
because her mamma had been ill for a 
very long time, and she was now going to 
some famous springs for the summer, 
and next winter to California. If Dorothy 
went with her parents, she would have to 
be left very much to the care of a maid, 
and so grandma had begged to have her 
little pet granddaughter with her for the 
year. At first mamma thought she could 
not possibly leave her little girl for so long 
a time, but it would be so much better 
for Dorothy that she finally consented. 
Dorothy was used to staying with grand- 


lO Dorothy Dot. 

ma, so she would not be apt to be very 
homesick. 

Still it had been a little hard to part 
with mamma for a whole year, and I ’m 
afraid there were a good many tears 
shed on both sides at first. However, 
when Dorothy was fairly given over into 
grandma’s hands, and had started for 
Chester, the excitement of the little 
journey took up her mind, and she soon 
forgot to cry. 

She was full of eager questions as they 
rolled over the smooth country road, be- 
hind Polly Perkins and Tommy Tucker. 
Dorothy had named the horses herself last 
summer when grandpa bought them. He 
had much to tell her about the chickens, 
and the little new calves, and Chintz, the 
cat, and Noah, a great big Newfoundland. 
Grandpa lived in a large house, with 
plenty of ground around it, and many 
trees. It was just the place for a little 
girl to be happy in. Dorothy had spent 


At Grandma’s. 


1 1 

every one of her six summers there, and 
loved the place dearly. 

It was dusk when they ended their two 
miles’ drive from the station, and the little 
girl was quite ready for her supper and 



then for bed. She was her grandmother’s 
namesake, but all her little playmates 
called her “ Dot ” for short. She thought 
it was a separate name and when any- 
body asked her name, she always an- 


12 Dorothy Dot. 

I 

swered promptly, “ Dorothy Dot Manning 
Hillard.” ^ ■ 

Dorothy was up bright and early the 
next morning to explore every nook and 
corner of the dear old place. Back of 
the house were rolling fields full of rocks, 
just the finest place in the world for play- 
ing house. Some of the rocks were broad 
and flat, just cropping out of the ground ; 
some were big and square, with rough 
little places that answered for steps. 
Some of them had hollows in them, that 
were filled with rain-water, and made 
splendid ponds for the rubber dolls to 
take their baths in. The children would 
bring their dolls and play here by the 
hour. Often grandma would give them 
luncheon to eat out there. All their bits 
of broken china were collected here. One 
rock was a parlor, another a dining-room, 
another a bedroom, another a kitchen. 
On one they played store ; on another, 
school. 


At Grandma’s. 


13 


Dorothy had several playmates here 
whom she was very fond of. First, there 
was her cousin, Celia Abbott, who, though 
she was quite a big girl, two years older 
than Dot, was devoted to her little cousin, 
and came, whenever she could, to play 
with her. However, as Celia lived a mile 
from the village, she could not come 
every day. Another little friend was 
Agnes Blake, who lived down the vil- 
lage street only a little distance, and she 
and Dorothy were constantly together. 
Sometimes, also. Dot was allowed to go 
and see Esther Russel, the doctor’s little 
daughter, but she, like Celia, lived in 
another part of the village. 

Of course Agnes knew her little play- 
mate was expected, so the next morning, 
the first thing after breakfast, she was on 
hand to see her. For two minutes the 
children looked shyly at each other, little- 
girl fashion, and then grandpa took them 
both out to see the new colt. Soon 


14 Dorothy Dot. 

their little tongues were wagging fest 
enough. 

They spent a merry morning rac- 
ing over the yard and barn, visiting 
the rocks, and making friends with the 
new animals, and renewing acquaintance 
with the old. Grave old Noah, the big 
Newfoundland, seemed glad enough to 
have his playfellows about again, and 
followed them sedately wherever they 
went. Chintz had a fine collection of 
kittens ready for their amusement. There 
was a little black one, a striped one, a 
gray one, and a funny little thing that was 
black and white and yellow like Chintz 
herself. How the children oh-ed and 
ah-ed over them ! Such cunning little 
round furry things, not yet able to walk ! 
Dorothy felt obliged to go and get Limpy 
to see them also. 

Limpy — christened Olympia, by her 
grandfather — was never long out of her 
little mamma’s arms, She was a great 


At Grandma s. 


15 


big rag-doll, with a beautiful painted face, 
and flaxen hair, and so large that she was 
dressed in clothes that Dorothy herself had 
worn when she was a baby. No one of 
the waxen or china beauties that Dorothy 
owned was half so dear to her heart as 
this beloved Limpy. They slept together 
at night, and dressed at the same time in 
the morning. At least, Limpy sat in 
state on the bureau, while her mamma’s 
toilet was being made, and then she un- 
derwent a more or less hasty performance 
on her own behalf. 

Limpy was apparently delighted with 
the kittens, but as she always took her 
pleasures silently it is not surprising that 
she made no remarks. 

In the afternoon, Celia came down to see 
Dorothy on her way home from school^ 
and brought her mother’s love and a bag of 
little cakes that Dorothy particularly liked. 
Celia had guarded them zealously all 
through schopl-time, at the cost of much 


i6 


Dorothy Dot. 


self-denial, for they smelt wonderfully 
good. Grandma immediately added some 
late russet apples, and told the little girls 
they might run out to the rocks and play 
house with all this luncheon. 

Altogether, the first day away from 
mamma proved a very happy one, and at 
bedtime, although she felt a little “ teary 
round the lashes,” Dorothy went fast 
asleep before a single tear had time to 
squeeze itself out, and while grandma’s 
loving good-night kiss was still warm on 
her lips. 

As it was only the first of May, and 
there were still six weeks of the district- 
school term remaining, Celia was very 
anxious that her little cousin should go to 
' school with her, and both little girls begged 
so hard that grandma finally consented, 
thinking that Dorothy would be less apt 
to be homesick. 

On Monday morning, then, Dorothy, 
dimpling with eagerness, was ready long 


At Grandmas. 17 

before Celia came for her. She was pro- 
vided with a brand-new slate 'and nicely 
sharpened slate-pencil, which was tied 
around her neck with a long blue ribbon. 
A funny little red primer lay on top of the 
slate, all ready. She had been to a kin- 
dergarten for two years, but Celia assured 
her, with much scorn, that that was very 
different from really-truly school. 

Indeed, Dorothy soon found it to be so. 
The smallest children all sat on long forms 
with their little swinging feet not touching 
the floor. The older girls and boys had 
desks that held two children each. As a 
special favor, Celia was allowed to have her 
little cousin sit beside her, while her usual 
seatmate went to sit with another girl to 
make room for Dorothy. 

The little girl, for a while, sat open- 
mouthed with astonishment at the novel 
order of exercises. The children all sat 
quietly at their desks and studied or 
made figures on their slates very busily. 


Dorothy Dot. 


All of them were very conscious of their 
visitor, the little city-girl. The scholars 
stood at the back of the room to recite, 
reading and spelling in loud shouts. 
Dorothy herself was called up once to 
the master’s desk, with two other little 
girls and a small boy, all about her own 
age. They opened their primers, and 
Dorothy listened in much amazement as 
they read right off the book, in a high, 
sing-song tone, such sentences as : “ She — 
fed — the — hen. The — hen — was — fed — 
by — her. It — was — a — red — hen.” She 
could n’t read a single word herself yet. 
The master showed her the word “ hen,” 
and told her to look at it so she would 
know it again. 

“ I know it now,” said Dorothy, eagerly, 
“ I can read it,” and pointing her dimpled 
finger at random, she read loud and high, 
as the others did, “ She fed the red cat^' 
and all the children laughed. Dorothy 
was much mortified. It was really very 


At Grandma’s. 


19 


puzzling that the other children read so 
easily all those words that looked just 
alike to her. How did they do it ? She 
felt quite discouraged. However, the 
master showed her the word “hen” again, 
and made her find it for herself in two or 
three different places, and when she found 
it for the first time all by herself, she was 
as proud as if she had discovered America. 
She went to her desk with her head very 
high, and sat down to see how many 
“hens” she could find in the whole book. 




AT SCHOOL. 


T noon, Dorothy ran home in great 



glee with her primer, eager to dis- 
play her new accomplishment to grandma. 
Grandma was delighted at the readiness 
with which she found “ hens ” every- 
where, and promised her a penny for 
every page of her primer that she learned 
to read without a mistake. 

The little girl was all ready to go back 
again at one o’clock, and marched into the 
schoolroom with the rest, when the bell 
rang, feeling very much like an old inhab- 
itant. But the afternoon session seemed 
very long. Accustomed to the variety 


20 


At School. 


21 


and constant change of occupation of the 
kindergarten, she grew very tired of sit- 
ting still on a high seat, where she could 
not touch her feet to the floor. The ex- 
citement of finding . “ hen ” in new places 
lost its zest. She drew pictures on her 
slate, but Celia would n’t let her “ ’splain ” 
them, and put her finger on her lips when 
she whispered. She began to wriggle 
and twist, and Celia shook her head. 
Her feet went to sleep, and she was hot, 
and scf thirsty, and she broke the point 
off her pencil, so it scratched dreadfully 
when she tried to use it. Altogether, 
school seemed less like a paradise than it 
had in the morning, and finally two 
little tears squeezed themselves out of 
Dorothy’s two dark eyes and rolled down 
her cheeks. 

There had been a subdued murmur of 
study going on in the room, and a little 
constant rustling, but at this moment a 
sudden, utter silence descended. It was 


22 


Dorothy Dot. 


so sudden that Dorothy cleared out her 
misty eyes with her little fists and looked 
around. The children were all alone, for 
Mr. Jacobs, the teacher, was nowhere to 
be seen. 

“Where is Mr. Jacops gone?” whis- 
pered Dorothy, curiously. 

Celia frightened her into silence with a 
fearful frown and an uplifted finger. 

Now Mr. Jacobs was a young man who 
had never taught before, and so he was 
very strict with the little ones under his 
care. He would often say to them : 
“ Now I am going to leave the room, 
and I want you to keep perfectly still 
while I am gone. If any one moves or 
speaks while I am out of the room, I shall 
know it.” 

Then he would step outside the door, 
close it, and stand close to it, to see if he 
were obeyed. Then he would open it 
suddenly and go in. At first there was 
much uproar during his absence, but when 


At School. 


23 


the children discovered that the offenders 
were promptly punished, they learned to 
keep as still as mice when he stepped 
quietly out of the room. 

This was what had happened now. 
Dorothy looked around in great surprise 
at the hush. Then suddenly she lifted up 
her voice and squealed, a funny little high 
squeal, just to see what would happen. 

Everybody jumped, and Celia looked 
frightened to death. 

“ Oh, hush. Dot ! ” she whispered, in a 
panic. “ P’r’aps he ’ll whip you ! ” 

Dorothy’s eyes grew big as saucers. 
Whip her ! She grew rigid with fright. 
Oh ! why had she done the dreadful thing ? 
Somehow she felt as if that squeal had 
squealed itself. 

“ Hide your head here in my lap,” ad- 
vised Celia, hastily ; and Dorothy thank- 
fully ducked her dark curls under the 
desk into Celia’s sheltering blue gingham 

lap. 


24 


Dorothy Dot. 


The next moment the master came in. 
He looked severely around on the quaking 
little folk. 

“Who uttered that sound?” he asked, 
in awful tones. 

Nobody answered, but everybody cast 
corner-eyed glances at one particular spot. 

“Who uttered that sound?” repeated 
the master, more loudly. Dorothy shivered 
to the tips of her russet leather ties, and 
clutched Celia’s leg in a panic. 

“ Please, sir,” said Celia, half raising her 
hand, “ I think it was my little cousin.” 

“ Oh,” said the master, grimly, “ and 
where is your little cousin gone ? ” 

“ Please, sir — oh !” — this was an involun- 
tary jump at Dorothy’s imploring pinch, 
which happened to strike a tender spot on 
her leg. “ I-I-think she ’s gone to sleep.” 

A sigh of relief ran through the school. 
Dorothy, with her legs twisted into a hard 
knot, lay still as death in Celia’s lap. 

“Well,” said Mr. Jacobs, relaxing 


At School. 


25 


suddenly, “ of course, if she made the sound 
in her sleep, we ’ll excuse it this time.” 

“ I — I don’t quite think she made the 
sound in her sleep,” stammered honest 
Celia, “ but I think praps she ’s gone to 
sleep now.” 

Mr. Jacobs turned suddenly to his desk, 
and began to arrange his books. 

After a moment he turned back again, 
and to the children’s astonishment he said, 
quite pleasantly : 

“ When she wakes up, we will tell her 
little girls never scream out like that in 
school. Second class in arithmetic take 
your places.” 

Dorothy lay squeezed up in a bunch on 
the hard board seat till school was dis- 
missed, not daring to move a muscle. 
But she was an honest little soul, and she 
knew well enough that she ought to tell 
the master the truth. Nothing more was 
said about the matter, even when school 
was dismissed, and she went slowly out 


26 


Dorothy Dot. 


with the others, casting shy glances towards 
the spot where Mr. Jacobs still sat, cor- 
recting exercises. He did not look at 
her, however, and she dared not break 
away from the line and go and speak to 
him. 

The children trooped home, she and 
Celia among them. Celia gave her many 
instructions for the next day, and charged 
her never, never to make such dreadful 
noises in school again. Dorothy prom- 
ised submissively. Celia’s road branched 
off from hers before they reached grand- 
pa’s, but it was such a few steps, that Celia 
bade her good-by at the turning, and told 
her to run on alone. Dorothy walked on 
a few steps slowly, but when Celia was out 
of sight she suddenly turned and ran back 
every step of the way to the schoolhouse, 
as fast as she could go. She was very 
much afraid lest her resolution should fail 
her, for she did n’t in the least know what 
Mr. Jacobs would do to her, but she felt 


At School. 


27 


she must tell him the truth. He was still 
in the schoolhouse when she reached it. 

“Please, Mr. Jacops,” she burst out, 
breathlessly, rushing in headlong, “ I 
was n’t asleep when I squeaked this after- 
noon, but I was so ’fraid when Celia 
fought you ’d — whip me” — Dorothy 
could hardly say the dreadful word — “ ’n’ 
so we played I was asleep, ’n’ I kept just 
as still afterwards, ’n’ the boards hurt my 
legs dreffully, ’cause I was all scrouged 
up, ’n’ truly, truly, I ’ll never do it again, 
an’ I ’m so sorry,” finished Dorothy, 
earnestly. 

“You’re a very brave little girl,” said 
Mr. Jacobs, who had recovered from his 
astonishment by the end of her speech. 

And to her immense surprise and in- 
finite relief, this dreadful Mr. Jacobs, 
whom the children all feared, stooped 
down and kissed her, and then let her 
help him shut up the schoolhouse, and 
when they left, Dorothy had tight hold of 


28 


Dorothy Dot. 


his hand and skipped along, chattering 
gaily. After this, they were always good 
friends. Dorothy went to school every 
day and learned very fast, so that when 
school closed in July she could read : 

“ See the fat frog 
Sit on the big log.’’ 


CHAPTER III. 


THE PINK SUNBONNET. 

O UR Dorothy, I regret to say, with 
all her sweet temper and honesty, 
was a wofully careless, untidy little maid 
at home. Her nurse used to say that the 
nursery, as long as Miss Dot was in it, 
looked as if it had been stirred up with a 
pudding-stick, for her toys, books, and 
dolls were always strewn broadcast. The 


30 


Dorothy Dot. 


rule of the nursery was, that if a thing 
was left out of place twice in succession, it 
must disappear for a few days. So 
most of Dorothy’s possessions were very 
often lost to sight, though to memory 
dear. 

When Dorothy went on this long visit 
to grandma, one of mamma’s final charges 
was that Dorothy should try to grow 
orderly. Grandma and the little girl had 
a long talk on the subject one night, at 
bedtime, and the result was that Dorothy 
concluded that she would try very hard to 
“s ’prise” mamma on her return, by her 
exceedingly tidy ways. 

“ It’s such a bovver to stop and put my 
fings away, when I ’m in a nawful hurry,” 
confessed Dot, honestly; “but I do truly 
s’pose I could do it if I tried hard. Lots 
of times. Grandma, I ’d truly rawer lose 
my fings than put ’em away. Somehow, 
I just don’t like to.” 

In this little country place, all the 


The Pink Sunbonnet. 31 

children wore sunbonnets, pink or blue or 
brown or white, so, of course, Dorothy 
must have one for her very own also. 
Grandma made her a pink one, a gay little 
affair, with a soft, pink frill framing in her 
silky curls, and shading her shy, dark eyes 
and dimpled face. 

“ Here s a little low nail especially for you 
to hang it on, when you come in the house,” 
said grandma. “ Remember, it must never 
be thrown down anywhere, but always hung 
up, for if I find it on the floor I shall take 
.it away for a time.” 

“ Oh, no,” cried Dorothy in alarm, 
holding her precious little pink sunbonnet 
tightly. “’Deed, I won’t frow it ’round, 
Grandma. I ’ll be the carefulest girl — 
truly I will, you ’ll see ! ” 

And then she sat down on the floor, and 
tried her bonnet on Limpy, telling her very 
severely, that she hoped that she (Limpy) 
would never frow her sunbonnet on the 
floor, “ ’cause if you do, I ’ll put you to 


32 Dorothy Dot. 

bed wivout any supper and frash you very 
hard.” 

“ Dorothy,” called grandma from the 
next room, “ is that what you ’d like me 
to do to you, if you leave your things 
around ? ” 



“ ’Course not, Grandma, but I have to 
talk to Limpy very hard so she ’ll ’mem- 
ber better not to forget.” 

Really, for a whole week, between Dor- 
othy’s desire to grow orderly, so that she 
might s’ prise mamma, and her delight in 


The Pink Sunbonnet. 33 

her pink sunbonnet, and her fear of for- 
feiting it for a time if she left it around, 
she became most remarkably tidy. Her 
little book and slate went regularly to 
their own little niche, when she came 
home from school, and her sunbonnet 
went up on its little low nail, with all 
the regularity of clockwork. Grandma 
rejoiced, though she knew that Dorothy 
could not overcome her bad habit of 
carelessness so suddenly, and she was on 
the lookout to remind her little grand- 
daughter if she began to grow disorderly 
again. 

One day, Dorothy rushed in from school 
with Celia, eager for an hour’s play on 
the rocks before supper. Down went her 
sunbonnet on the floor, and bang went 
slate and book on the window-sill. 

“ Dorothy ! ” reminded grandma. 

“ Oh, bovver ! ” cried Dorothy, stopping. 
“ ’Sense me. Grandma, I did n’t mean 
bovver to you, but bovver to these old 


34 


Dorothy Dot. 


fings. I wish there were nails on the 
floor to hang my things on.” 

Grandma laughed. 

“ When I was a little girl,” she said, 
“ I had a little cousin, Martha Ellen 
Smith, who used to visit me, and she, I 
am sorry to say, was as untidy as my 
little girl. She always threw her things 
on the floor, which nurse used to call 
‘ Martha Ellen Smith’s closet’ So when- 
ever we lost anything, somebody would 
say : ‘ Look in Martha Ellen Smith’s 
closet and it’s sure to be there.’” 

“ It ’s a nice closet,” said Dorothy de- 
cidedly, as she hung up her bonnet^ and 
put away her book and slate. “It saves 
so much time. Grandma.” 

“ Dear me ! ” laughed grandma. “ How 
about the time lost finding things when 
you want them in a hurry? And now, 
if you’d put your things away at first, 
you ’d have been out on the rocks by this 
time. Run along now, and ask Sarah to 


The Pink Sunbonnet. 


35 


give you some cookies to play house 
with.” 

No wonder that Dorothy so dearly 
loved grandma and liked to stay with 
her. She was always thinking of nice 
things for her “ little girl,” as she loved 
to call her. 

At last there came one sad morning, 
when the pink bonnet was not found 
hanging on its nail. Dire dismay struck 
to Dorothy’s heart. Where had she left 
it last night when she came flying in from 
play ? She had not the faintest idea. 
She looked hastily around her room up- 
stairs, dived under the bed, rummaged 
the closets, searched , every corner of the 
hall and sitting-room, and even wriggled 
under the great sideboard in the dining- 
room. 

“Twenty minutes of nine, little daugh- 
ter,” said grandma, coming in. “ Has n’t 
Sarah gotten you ready for school yet ? 
It ’s time you were off. Oh, what dirty 


3 ^ 


Dorothy Dot. 


little hands ! and your clean apron ! What 
did you want under the sideboard, 
dear ? ” 

“ I can’t find my sunbonnet,” confessed 
shamefaced Dorothy. 

Grandma looked grave. 

“ Lost again, Dorothy ? Did you know 
that Sarah brought it in Monday from 
the pickets, where you left it hanging ? 
I was going to put it away at once, but 
she begged me so to let her put it in its 
place, as that was the first time you had 
forgotten it, that I did. Yesterday, she 
found it on the hay-mow, and gave it to 
you before I knew it. Now I don’t know 
where you ’ve left it ; but when you find 
it, it must go into my closet for three 
days.” 

“ Oh, dear ! ” wailed Dorothy, disconso- 
lately. “ I ’m the forgettingest, careless- 
est girl ever was. I don’t want to lose 
my bonnet for free days.” 

“You must hunt for it after school,” 


The Pink Sunbonnet. 


37 


said grandma. “Now get your second- 
best hat and run along.” 

On investigation, however, this second- 
best hat was likewise missing. 

“ You wore it to Drayton on Tuesday,” 
said grandma, perplexed. “ Where could 
you have left it ? ” 

“ I know,” cried Dorothy, with sudden 
inspiration. “ I went down with Agger- 
nes for milk when we came home, ’n’ we 
stopped to get some flowers, ’n’ I fought 
I’d put ’em in my hat, ’n’ then — we 
played Indians on the rocks, ’n’ I guess 
p’raps I left it there.” 

“Very well,” said grandma; “after 
school you can go and look for it. Now — ” 

“ Shall I wear my best^hat to school, 
Grandma ? ” 

“No,” said grandma, slowly; “a little 
girl who leaves her every-day hat out- 
doors, and loses her sunbonnet, must go 
to school with a handkerchief over her 
head.” 


38 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ Oh, no, Grandma ! not really ? ” 
groaned Dorothy, in horror. 

“Yes, really. Here is a nice large one 
of grandpa’s,” said grandma, shaking out 
the clean folds. She folded it corner- 
wise and pinned it under the child’s chin. 

“ Oh, I ’m so ’shamed,” wailed Dorothy. 
“ I don’t want to. Grandma. Please, 
please, don’t make me, ’n’ I ’ll never leave 
my lings round again.” 

“ I am sorry, darling, and if you had n’t 
been so careless about both of your hats, 
I might try you again. No, it must be 
the handkerchief this morning.” 

Dorothy could not see what a little 
picture she made, with the corner of the 
handkerchief falling over her dark, fluffy 
hair, nor how sweet her dimpled face and 
rosy cheeks looked in their new frame. 

“ I don’t fink I can make my feet go. 
Grandma,” sobbed poor little Dot, “ if I 
have to wear this hanserchief. It makes 
them feel so heavy.” 


The Pink Sunbonnet. 39 

“ Poor little feet ! ” said grandma, pity- 
ingly. “They must suffer because 
naughty Dot was so careless. Now, you 
are so late that I must write an excuse 
for your tardiness.” 

Dorothy sniffed tearfully with her own 
wee pocket-handkerchief as grandma 
wrote the note, casting longing glances 
out of the tail of her eye, to see if there 
was any chance of her relenting. But no, 
alas ! 

“ Now go, dear,” said grandma, kissing 
her, as she started off, as slowly as any 
snail. 

And a very wretched little maid it was, 
who, full fifteen minutes later, sidled along 
by the schoolhouse fence, endeavoring to 
reach the front door unseen by any stray 
glance from the window. 

She folded the handkerchief very small 
and stuffed it into her little pocket, and 
then, with a load off her heart, she went 
into the schoolroom. At recess she ran 


40 


Dorothy Dot. 


out to play, bareheaded, and by noon 
she had quite forgotten her afflictions. 
Then came the time when the children 
all crowded into the lobby to make ready 
to go home. The sunny morning had 
clouded over, and it was raw and cold. 
Dot instinctively looked round for her 
hat. 

“ Where ’s my — ” she began, and then 
she remembered. 

“ Get your hat, Dot,” said Cousin Celia. 
“We’re all ready.” 

“ I — I — did n’t wear any hat,” stam- 
mered miserable Dot. 

“ Did n’t wear any ! Why, your head 
will freeze. Did grandma let you?” 

“ Yes. Wait a minute, Celia ; I fink 
I ’ve forgotten somefing.” 

The other children trooped noisily 
away. 

“ I ’ve losted bofe my hats,” confessed 
Dot, when the two little girls were finally 
left behind, alone in the empty lobby. 


The Pink Sunbonnet. 41 

“ Grandma made me come wiv a hanser- 
chief over my head. I ve got to wear it 
home, ’n’ I ’m so ’fraid somebody will see 
me.” 

“ You might go bareheaded,” suggested 
Celia. 

“Its so cold now, I’m ’fraid I ’d get 
earache, wivout somefing on my head.” 
Earache was Dot’s arch enemy, and the 
one thing that made her careful. So 
Celia helped her adjust her new head' 
gear in place. Just as they wdre ready 
to leave, two children came racing back to 
the schoolhouse, and bolted into the lobby. 

“Oh, my! look at Dot Hillard,” they 
instantly cried. “ Where ’s your hat. 
Dot?” 

“Is that a French bonnet?” laughed 
one. “Guess p’r’aps it’s New York 
style. We’ll all copy it. My! ain’t it 
swell ! ” 

Poor Dorothy succumbed under their 
banter. 


42 


Dorothy Dot 


“ It’s New York style if Dot wears it,” 
retorted Celia, defending her little cousin 
valiantly. “ I ’ll wear my handkerchief 
too, I b’lieve, ’stead of my sunbonnet, for 
it ’s real cold, and it will be nice and warm.” 
And in a moment the generous little girl 
had her bonnet on her arm and her hand- 
kerchief, corner-wise, over her head. 

“ Oh, Celia ! ” cried Dorothy, gratefully ; 
“ will you really ? ” 

“ ’Course I will. Why, I ’d dr at her. 
You don’t know how warm this is, girls. 
Come on. Dot, it ’s getting awful late.” 
And Celia hurried her small cousin away. 

“ Is n’t that just like Celia ? ” said one 
of the girls, looking after her, quick to 
notice a thoughtful deed. “ I ’m real 
sorry I laughed at Dot. Prob’ly she ’s 
lost her hat.” 

Hand in hand, the little cousins ran 
down the grassy slope with their handker- 
chiefs tied closely over their fluttering 
curls, until their ways separated. Celia 


The Pink Sunbonnet. 


43 


waited till Dot was entirely out of sight, 
before she replaced her new head-gear by 
her white sunbonnet, which had been 
hanging over her arm, and then she scam- 
pered quickly home. 



“ You are late, darling,” said grandma, 
as Dorothy came slowly dragging up the 
lane. 

“ It ’s this hanserchief. Grandma,” said 
Dot, soberly. “ It s so heavy that I 


44 


Dorothy Dot. 


can’t walk fast. I guess you never had 
to wear a hanserchief for a hat, did 
you ? ” 

“Yes,” laughed grandma ; “that’s ex- 
actly what I did do once when I was a 
little girl, and it always helped me to 
remember to hang up my bonnet after 
that. Now you will be glad to know that 
Sarah has found your bonnet — where, do 
you think ? ” 

“Oh, Grandma! really?” cried Doro- 
thy, joyfully clapping her hands. “ Where 
was it ? ” 

“In the big box where Chintz has her 
little kittens.” 

'“ Oh, I ’member ! ” interrupted Doro- 
thy. “We were playing papoose, ’n’ the 
kittens were the papooses, ’n’ we had ’em 
in our sunbonnets over our backs, ’n’ 
they kept crawling up our curls. Grandma, 
’n’ I fink I just frowed my bonnet right 
into the box when I put the kittens back, 
’n’ oh. Grandma ! need I wear the han- 


The Pink Sunbonnet. 


45 


serchief this afternoon ? ” finished Dot, 
all in one breath. 

Grandma kissed her, smiling. “You 
can wear your hat if you run out now and 
find it under the trees where you think 
you left it, but I must put your bonnet 
away for three days. Do you think you 
can remember not to use Martha Ellen 
Smith’s closet any more? You won’t 
care to wear the handkerchief again, per- 
haps, but you must every time you leave 
your bonnet out of place.” 

“’Deed, Grandma,” cried Dorothy, 
eagerly, “ I do fink I ’ll be careful now, 
’cause, truly, I ’d rawer you ’d frow 
stones at me, than make me wear that 
hanserchief again. The children laughed 
so, and I was just as ’shamed as I could 
be. I won’t use Marfa Ellen Smif’s closet 
any more ever, I truly fink.” 



where Dorothy was very fond of “help- 
ing grandpa.” Many a happy hour 
did she have here, for digging holes 
for the seeds in brown, moist earth, 
was almost as much fun as making mud- 
pies. She had never before been in the 
country as early as this, to see the lit- 
tle dried-up-looking seeds go into their 
warm beds of earth, to lie there till the 
little sprouts within them grew strong 
enough to push their green heads up to 
the light. A wonderful thing it seemed 
to the little maid. When she saw grandpa 
planting seeds, and was told that those lit- 
46 


A New Crop. 


47 


tie hard things would grow up into peas and 
beans and corn, she could hardly believe it. 

“ Why is it, Grandpa ? How is it ? ” 
were her incessant questions. And 
grandpa explained, over and over, how 
inside every seed there is folded up a tiny 
little sprout all ready to come out if the 
seed is left for a time in the soft, warm 
ground. 

“ Then,” said grandpa, “ the dampness 
swells the seed, and it breaks its dry 
cover, and out comes a little stalk, which 
shoots up and a tiny root that strikes 
down, like this,” and grandpa dug up a 
bean that had been planted the week be- 
fore, to show her. 

“ What makes the root go down and 
the stalk always go up ? How do they 
know.^^” persisted Dorothy. 

“ Not even the wisest man knows that, 
Dorothy Dot,” said grandpa, hoeing 
busily. 

“ I fink you ’d ought to plant the seed 


48 


Dorothy Dot. 


right side up, then, Grandpa,” said Dot, 
anxiously, watching him put in the beans 
with no sort of care. “Won’t they get 
all mixed up ? P’raps the stalks will go 
down and the roots will come up, ’n’ then 
we’d have to dig down for the beans.” 

“ No, somehow, they never get mixed 
up,” answered grandpa, picking up another 
bean-pole. “ Whichever way you plant 
it, the stalk always climbs, and the root 
reaches down.” 

“ I should fink,” said Dorothy, thought- 
fully, “ the blood would all rush to its 
head, if you plant it up-sy-down,” with a 
recollection of her own feelings if she 
hung head downward from the foot- 
board of her bed. 

“ Does n’t seem to,” said grandpa, 
laughing. “You may drop in these 
beans, if you like, while I hold the pole. 
Put in six around it.” 

Dorothy dropped them in carefully, 
counting out loud. 


A New Crop. 


49 


“ One, two, free, four, five, six. After 
it gets up. Grandpa, what makes it keep 
on growing then ? What makes things 
get so big ? ” 

“The sap, my dear. And the sap 
comes from the ground. The end of 
every little root has a little open mouth, 
and it drinks in from the ground every- 
thing it needs to make the plant grow. 
The earth is moist, yoju know, from the 
rain that falls. Well, this sap rises 
through the roots to the stalks of the 
plants and then all over them, by very, 
very small pipes. If you break off a twig 
or a leaf you can squeeze sap, like this, 
out of the broken place,” and grandpa 
broke off a quince stem and leaf to show 
her. 

“In the winter,” he went on, “the 
ground is frozen and hard and nothing 
grows. In the spring, rains fall, and we 
dig up the earth, and turn it over in the 
sun, till it gets nice and warm. Then the 


Dorothy Dot. 


SO 

sap begins to flow in the big trees and in 
the small bushes, up to the very ends of 
the twigs, when new green leaves begin 
to form. They get larger all the time, as 
you see them now. And remember, 
everything is made from the sap, Dorothy 
Dot.” 

“ It ’s very funny that soft sap just like 
water can make green leaves,” said Dor- 
othy, her forehead all in a pucker. 

“ Very strange,” said grandpa ; “ but so 
it is. Now, I ’m going to dig over this 
little corner here and make it smooth and 
nice, and put some paths through it, so as 
to mark it off in four little beds, two on 
each side, and you shall have it for a 
flower-bed of your very own. Then you 
can watch your own flowers grow. Will 
you like that, Dorothy Dot ? ” 

“ Oh, goody ! goody ! ” cried Dorothy, 
dancing round in joy. “ You ’re just the 
sweetest grandpa. But where shall I get 
the fings to plant in it ? ” 


51 


A New Crop. 

‘‘We’ll go down to the store by and 
by, and buy flower-seeds of anything you 
want, and then we ’ll come home and plant 
them. Will that do ? ” 


^ J f 

J-’. 

/ . '■ 



\ 


Dorothy danced away to tell Limpy 
about it, for Limpy sat under the quince- 
bush watching everything with her wide 
blue eyes. 

“ I ’m just the gladdest I ’ve been for 


52 


Dorothy Dot. 


never so long,” Dot finished, taking Limpy 
in her arms, and running to the house to 
tell grandma, and get her sunbonnet. 

“ All ready now ? ” said grandpa, look- 
ing up as she danced back. “ Why, I 
was n’t going till after dinner.” Then, 
seeing Dorothy’s look of grieved surprise 
(for she thought grandpa had meant to go 
directly), he changed his mind. 

“Very well, we’ll go now,” he said, 
laying down his hoe — and off they 
started. 

“ What flowers do you want, Dorothy 
Dot ? ” asked grandpa, as they walked 
down the village street, Dorothy clinging 
to his hand and chattering eagerly. 

“ Sunflowers,” answered Dot, promptly, 
“ and dandelions, and daisies and — and — 
roses — and — I don’t know. Grandpa. 
What shall I have ? ” 

“ There ’ll be plenty of dandelions in the 
fields. Dot, so you need n’t plant those,” 
said grandpa ; “ but you can have a whole 


A New Crop. 53 

hedge of sunflowers, if you want them. 
What else ? ” 

“ Daisies ?” 

“ Oh, they grow in the fields also — too 
many of them.” 

“ I ’d like some of those flowers with 
long horns, I fink. Don’t you know what 
grandma had last summer under the par- 
lor windows?” 

“ Nasturtiums ? All right.” 

“ An’ I ’d like some lettuce-flowers, 
’cause I love lettuce.” 

“Very well. Dot. You shall have let- 
tuce of your own so you can have it to eat 
from your own bed. Morning-glories?” 

“ Yes, I fink so. I don’t esactly ’member 
them, but I know I ’d like them. Can I 
have some sweet-potatoes ? ” 

“Oh, Dot! Dot! I’m afraid you’re 
carnal-minded.” 

“ Oh, Gi'andpa / you do say such hard 
words ! Am I caramel-minded ? Do you 
mean ’cause I like caramels ? Oh, could I 


54 Dorothy Dot. 

plant some ? ” with a sudden skip of de- 
light. 

“ Now, my dear, this is to be a flower- 
garden. Things to eat grow in my garden, 
and you ’ll have to buy caramels of Mr. 
Johnson.” 

“ All right. Grandpa. Well, I ’d like 
lots of smelly fings. You choose ’em.” 

“ Very well. Here we are.” 

It took some time for Dorothy to make 
her final selection, for she wanted to see 
the picture of every flower grandpa spoke 
of. It was just about noon, and as there 
were very few people in the store, Mr. 
Johnson had plenty of time for them. 

At last the selection was made, and 
grandpa’s hands were full of dear little 
brown envelopes, full of seeds. Just as 
they were both going out of the door, 
Mr. Johnson, who had seen Dorothy cast- 
ing constant glances towards a certain 
place, took up a tiny little ruffled parasol, 
which lay on the counter. 


A New Crop. 


55 


‘‘You’ve bought so much of me,” he 
said, smiling, to Dorothy, “ that I think 
I ought to throw in a little something. 
Would n’t you like this ? ” and he actually 
held up that delightful little blue silk 
parasol. “ It ’s a little shop-worn,” he 
said, in a low tone, to grandpa. 

“ For mef exclaimed Dorothy, in sur- 
prise. “ Oh, fank you ! See, Grandpa ! ” 
“ That ’s very nice, and I think it ’s very 
kind of Mr. Johnson,” said grandpa. “ Now 
say good-morning and we will go.” 

Dorothy walked out of the store and 
down the street in a state of perfect bliss, 
holding high her little parasol. Such a 
lovely thing ! and she did n’t know before 
how much she had wanted one. She did 
not notice for some time that it was a 
little faded in streaks, where it had been 
hanging in the shop-window. She held 
it first over one shoulder, and then over 
the other, in front and behind. 

“ Grandpa,” she said earnestly, at last, 


56 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ which way do you fink it is more stylish 
to carry a parasol, in front of you, or be- 
hind you ?” 

“ Really, I don’t know, Dot. I should 
say it depends on where the sun is.” 

“ On the sun ? ” repeated Dorothy. 
“Why?” 

“ Because, Dorothy Dot, the parasol is 
supposed to be carried to keep off the sun 
from your head. Did n’t you know that ? ” 

“ Why, Grandpa, I always fought people 
carried ’em to be stylish. That ’s what 
Sarah said the ovver day. She said Mrs. 
Smif carried her parasol so stylish.” 

“ I think it looks all right just as you 
have it, you small daughter of Eve.” 

“ Grandpa,” pursued Dorothy, after a 
pause, during which she had been looking 
closely at her parasol, “ don’t you fink this 
parasol is a little faintydf' for she had 
just detected the faded streaks. 

“ Perhaps it ’s made so,” said grandpa. 
“ Anyway, it ’s a fine parasol.” 


A New Crop. 


57 


And here they arrived at home, and 
Dorothy ran in great glee to show her 
new possession to grandma. 

The next day grandpa had Dorothy’s 
garden all ready. It was divided by two 
little cross-paths, which of course made 
four little square beds. It was in a corner 
of the big garden, around which was a 
picket fence. Close by the fence they 
planted the sunflowers, and then all the 
other things — mignonettes, marigolds^ nas- 
turtiums, balsams, feverfew, bachelor-but- 
tons, sweet-peas, and all the rest. 

For the next week, Dorothy fairly lived 
by her flower-bed ; she was much disap- 
pointed that the very next day did not 
show a fine crop of flowers. I am afraid 
her private diggings rather interfered with 
the regular duties of the seeds, and it 
really was a wonder that most of them 
did not come up root foremost. But 
thanks to grandpa, who kept a quiet 
watch and constantly sowed fresh seed 


58 


Dorothy Dot. 


to make sure that something would show 
its head above ground, in a week’s time 
the first little green shoots began to ap- 
pear. Dorothy was wild with delight. 
She could hardly be persuaded not to 
help them along, and I am afraid that the 
reason that the first few sprouts came to 
an untimely end was because some pull 
happened to be a little stronger than the 
rest. In spite of all drawbacks, however 
— or perhaps I should say, in spite of all 
draw-forwards — in two weeks’ time there 
was a thick sprinkling of little green 
things springing up in every direction. 
Dorothy’s pride then knew no bounds. 
She and Agnes spent a good share of 
their time in walking up and down the 
small paths, which were about five feet 
long, and wondering what the different 
things would be. 

“An’ they all come from the teenti- 
est bits of fings,” Dorothy would explain 
over and over to Agnes, who had not 



59 



6o 


Dorothy Dot. 


had the benefit of grandpa’s information. 
“ They are all wiggled up inside the seeds, 
and they burst out and grow right up, 
and you can plant ’em up-sy-down, or any 
way, an’ they grow esactly the same. 
An’ the sap keeps running up and down 
all the time to the leaves, and makes big 
leaves. An’ it runs to the little teenty 
buds, ’n’ fattens em right up into roses, or 
anyfin^. Is n’t it the funniest fing, Ag- 
gernes ? ” 

And Agnes thought it was. 

“ I wonder,” said Dorothy, thought- 
fully one day, to herself, “ if anyfing 
else ’sides seeds would grow. Would n’t 
it be nice to plant anyfing and have it 
come up somefing ? I ’d like to plant a 
doll and perhaps I ’d get a lot of little 
dolls.” 

Still, when she came to think this idea 
over, she concluded there was no one of 
her large family whom she wanted to 
sacrifice. 


A New Crop. 


6i 

After dinner that day she chanced 
to run back into the dining-room for a 
drink. The table still stood as they had 
left it, waiting for Sarah to come in from 
the kitchen to clear it. 

“ Oh, I know what I ’ll do ! ” Dorothy 
thought, suddenly. “ Grandma says I 
need a new silver spoon ’cause mine is so 
chewed where I cut my teef on it when I 
was a baby. I fink I ’ll plant my spoon ’n’ 
fork, an’ then won’t grandma be s’prised, 
Saturday after next,” — for this was Dot’s 
way of putting any time in the future — 
“ when I bring her in some new ones that 
I picked.” 

She whipped them off the table in a 
hurry and slipped out the side door to 
her garden, anxious not to be seen, so 
she could s’prise grandma later.. In the 
innermost corner of her flower-bed, where 
no seeds had as yet come up, she hastily 
dug a hole and buried her fork and 
spoon. Then she ran off, gleefully, to 


62 Dorothy Dot. 

take Limpy out to the rocks for an 
airing. 

Of course the spoon and fork were 
missed, and Sarah searched everywhere 
for them, but never thought of asking 
Dorothy. Mrs. Hillard could not imag- 
ine what had become of them, when Sarah 
came to her about them. At last they 
remembered that just after dinner an old 
tramp had come up on the piazza, on 
to which the low dining-room windows 
opened. So they thought that in some 
strange way the tramp had made off with 
them, though why he had taken only 
those two small articles and nothing else, 
they could n’t imagine. 

At supper, however, Dorothy had al- 
most forgotten what she had done, and 
picked up the large fork by her plate in 
surprise. 

“ Where ’s my Dorofy-fork ? ” she asked, 
quickly. She always called it that be- 
cause it was marked with her name. 


A New Crop. 


63 


“ It ’s very strange, dear, where it is 
gone. We have looked everywhere for 
it,” answered grandma. “ I suppose that 
old tramp must have taken it, though I 
don’t see when he had the chance why he 
did n’t take more.” 

Dorothy clapped her hands over her 
mouth, in sudden recollection, and grand- 
ma looked quickly at her. 

“ Do you know anything about them, 
dear?” 

“ It ’s a s’prise. Grandma,” said Dorothy, 
dimpling all over. “Won’t you be glad 
Saturday after next ! ” 

“Tell me about it, pet,” said grandma. 

“ Please, Grandma,” begged Dor- 
othy ; “ I do want to s’prise you so. Can’t 
I wait till the s’prise grows ? ” 

“What can it be ? I really think it 
would be better to tell me now, dear, for 
Saturday after next is such a long time 
away. Very likely by that time I shall 
have forgotten all about it.” 


64 


Dorothy Dot. 


“Well,” said Dorothy, who was dying 
to tell, “ you know when we plant seeds, 
why, lots of fings come up. So, Grandma, 
I planted my fork and spoon, and bime-by 
there ’ll be a lot of little forks and spoons 
sticking right up out of the ground.” 

How grandpa and grandma laughed ! 
Dorothy, bewildered, looked from one to 
the other. 

“Won’t they come up. Grandpa?” she 
added wistfully. 

“They’ll certainly come up, pet,” he 
answered ; “ because after supper you and 
I will go and help them up, for I am sorry 
to say that if we leave them there they 
certainly won’t sprout. If they would, we 
would put all our knives and forks under 
ground, wouldn’t we. Mother? It’s only 
seeds that grow when they are planted, 
Dorothy Dot, so don’t plant anything else 
without asking grandma.” 

“ You said I needed a new spoon. 
Grandma,” said disappointed little Doro- 


A New Crop. 


65 


thy, mournfully, “ an’ I fought it would 
be so nice to grow one my own self in my 
own garden to s’prise you.” 

A few days after a “ s’prise ” awaited 
Dorothy, for on coming to the table one 
day, there lay at her place a beautiful 
solid silver spoon and fork and knife, all 
marked “ Dorothy Hillard.” They were 
a little larger than her old set, and these 
new ones she used till she was a big girl. 
But she never tried to plant another set. 



/ 


CHAPTER V. 


A NEW FRIEND. 


WO little sunbonnets, a pink one and 



1 a blue one ; two dimpled faces, seri- 
ous and intent ; two pairs of eager eyes, 
looking curiously around, rose over the 
old board fence that bounded grandpa’s 
yard on one side. The lane that led 
through grandpa’s yard to the fields back 
of the house, lay along close beside it. 
On the other side was a house with large 
grounds. This house had been lately 
taken by some new people, and the chil- 
dren knew nothing about their neighbors. 


A New Friend. 


67 


A strange thing had been happening. 
For several days, almost every time the lit- 
tle girls ran down the lane, they found, near 
the “shoemaker” bushes — as Dorothy 
called the sumac — which bordered the 
lane, pretty, square blocks, with pictures 
on them ; they could n’t imagine where 
they came from, for neither of the children 
had ever seen any like them before. 

“ Is n’t it the funniest fing ! ” Dorothy 
exclaimed. This was Saturday morning, 
and Agnes had just come over to play 
with her. When she ran up the lane no 
blocks were there, yet five minutes after, 
when the two little girls came down the 
lane, there was not only one, but a per- 
fect shower. 

“ I fought the blocks just growed right 
out of the earf,” said Dorothy, “but 
grandma does n’t fink so. She says some- 
body must have f row’d ’em here.” 

“ P’raps the fairies brought ’em in the 
night,” suggested Agnes. 


68 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ See, Aggernes,” exclaimed Dot, care- 
fully examining the blocks ; “ I b’lieve 
they all match. Here ’s a little girl’s 
head in one, and here’s her dress, and 
here ’s a part of a kitty, and here ’s her 
tail ! ” 

She was matching the blocks, and sure 
enough, a part of a picture began to ap- 
pear. The two little heads were bending 
eagerly over this discovery, when — whack ! 
came another block, giving Dorothy a 
smart rap which she felt even through 
her sunbonnet. Both little girls jumped. 

“ I do b’lieve it rains ’em,” said Doro- 
thy, looking up, awe-struck, at the blue sky. 
It was just here that Agnes suggested 
they should look over the fence, so up they 
both climbed. They peered around care- 
fully in every direction, but no one was 
in sight. However, they did not notice a 
pair of sharp, bright eyes' watching them 
closely from under a leafy bush near by. 

“ See there. Dot ! ” cried Agnes, sud- 


A New Friend. 


69 


denly, in much excitement. “ They do 
grow ! Look ! there is one just coming up 
now, close to the fence.” 

Dorothy hung farther over the fence. 
Sure enough, on the other side lay another 
block. A gate opened in the fence close 
by. Both children scrambled eagerly 
down and ran to it. They pushed it 
open with a little effort, and squeezed 
through. They picked up the block, and 
then, behold ! there was another one 
near by. 

“Just see ! ” cried Dorothy, in ecstasy. 
“ And here V anovver one ! Let ’s take 
’em to grandma.” 

Dorothy had slipped back through the 
gate, when a scream from Agnes made her 
turn around and dart back again. To her 
amazement there was a strange, small boy 
who was striking Agnes, and pulling at the 
blocks which she was tightly clutching. 

“ Gimme back my blocks ! ” he screamed. 
“ Stop carrying ’em off.” 


70 


Dorothy Dot. 


Agnes, in turn, shrieked violently, 
“ They Ve our blocks ! Go ’way, you 
bad boy ! ” 

The small boy beat Agnes with both 
fists. 

“ They ’re my blocks, an’ I chucked ’em 
over the fence myself. You need n’t 
come over here and steal ’em ! ” he cried, 
dancing around from side to side, and hit- 
ting the little girl wherever he could. 

Dorothy here darted to the rescue. 
“ Let go of Aggernes,” she cried, valiantly 
attacking the enemy in the rear, and beat- 
ing him in her turn, with little doubled- 
up fists. 

The boy, a stout little fellow about 
their own age, turned to defend himself. 
Dorothy, wild with indignation at any- 
one’s striking her beloved Agnes, rained 
down blows as if she were a little street 
boy herself. The combat lasted for about 
two minutes, and then Dorothy, hot and 
victorious, dragged Agnes through the 


A New Friend. 


71 


gate, which she slammed in the face of 
the small stranger. 

He, howling wrathfully, beat upon the 
fence, with both hands, but did not dare 
venture in to face the warlike little maid. 
She had her arms protectingly around 
Agnes, who, being a very timid child, was 
now crying with fright. 

“ He shan’t hurt you,” said Dorothy, 
protectingly, shaking her curls from her 
hot, scarlet little face. “ Don’t cry, Ag- 
gernes, I won’t let him hurt you again.” 

“ Gimme my blocks,” came in a shriek 
through a knot-hole. 

“ Do you espect they are his blocks, 
Dot ? ” sobbed Agnes. 

“No,” said Dorothy, stoutly I fink 
he just wants ’em.” 

“ Gimme my blocks ! I chucked ’em 
over the fence myself ’n’ I want ’em 
back,” called the boy, throwing a stone 
over the fence to emphasize his word^. 

“Let’s go an’ tell grandma,” Dorothy 


72 


Dorothy Dot. 


said, jumping up, with much relief at the 
thought of that haven of refuge. “ I ’m 
going to take all the blocks, too,” she 
added, scrambling them up hastily in her 
apron. 

Grandma sat on the piazza rocking and 
sewing, as the two disordered-looking 
children trudged up the lane. Dorothy’s 
pretty pink sunbonnet was torn, and hung 
limply down her back ; her cheeks were 
scarlet and her eyes shining with excite- 
ment. Agnes was crying and rubbing her 
eyes with her very dirty little fist, while 
her apron was torn from its shoulder-straps. 

“ Whatever is the matter with my two 
little girls ? ” called grandma, cheerily. 
At the sound of the voice that always 
meant comfort for all woes, the children 
began to run, and in a moment grandma’s 
motherly arms were around them both. 
It was a few moments before she could 
gather from the excited little girls what 
the matter was, for Dorothy was burning 


A New Friend. 


73 


with wrath against the boy, and his attack 
on them. 

“ Won’t you please ask grandpa to go 
and whip that bad boy hard ? ” she 
finished, eagerly. “ He scratched Ag- 
gernes ! See there ! ” 

“He certainly did,” said grandma, sym- 
pathizingly, “and I ’m afraid he has given 
my little girl a black eye, as well. I 'm 
very sorry you had such a squabble, but, 
after all, I think I won’t ask grandpa to 
go and whip him.” 

“ But he pounded us. Grandma, and we 
were n’t doing a single hng,” said Dorothy, 
earnestly. “ And we ’re little girls, and 
he ’s a boyT 

“It was very disgraceful treatment, 
certainly,” agreed grandma ; “ but, do you 
know, I almost suspect that those blocks 
you have been finding were really his ? ” 

“ Oh, no, Grandma ! we finded ’em, you 
know. We finded ’em growing right in 
the grass.” 


74 


Dorothy Dot. 


“Yes, pet, but' I think he did throw 
them over, just as he said. He has prob- 
ably watched you through the crack in 
the fence for the last two days, and threw 
the blocks over by way of making friends. 
Then when you went through the gate, 
and picked up the blocks from his side, 
he didn’t like it, and just rushed at you 
without thinking what a rude little boy he 
was.” 

The children still looked doubtful. 
They had taken a great fancy to the 
blocks, and did n’t like the idea of their 
real owner being so near. 

“ He need n’t have bumped my head 
so hard with his fists, anyway,” said 
Dot, still looking aggrieved. “ It ’s 
very unpolite for little boys to hit little 
girls.” 

“ Perhaps he ’s never been told any bet- 
ter. We don’t expect children to do what 
is right, unless they have some one to tell 
them what they ought to do.” 


A New Friend. 


75 


“He ought to do what his mower tells 
him, I fink.” 

“ Let me tell you what I know about 
this little new neighbor of ours. I saw 
his father last evening. This poor little 
boy has no mamma. She went to heaven 
when he was a little baby, and he has 
only his old nurse to look after him, and 
she lets him do exactly as he pleases, for 
his papa is at business all day long. Are n’t 
you sorry for him ? ” 

“ Poor little boy,” cried Dorothy, her 
tender heart softened at once. 

“ His papa said that he hoped his little 
son would make friends with my little 
granddaughter,” went on grandma. 

“ I don’t fink’ll like his way to make 
friends,” said Dorothy, decidedly. 

Grandma laughed. 

“No, indeed. It was rather rough, 
was n’t it ? But, after all, he thought that 
you were carrying off his things.” 

“If he has n’t any mower,” broke in 


76 


Dorothy Dot. 


Dorothy, ignoring this point, “ why 
does n’t he get a step-mower like Agger- 
nes ? She tells Aggernes nice things to 
do.” 

Agnes’s mamma, also, had died when 
her little girl was only a baby, but a year 
ago her father had brought her a dear, new 
mother, of whom she was very fond. 

“Yes,” chimed in Agnes here; “he 
ought to get a step-mother, ’n’ then he ’d 
know better than to scratch folks when 
he wants ’em to go away, ’stead of plain 
telling ’em.” 

“ Step-mowers are nice, but I don’t 
like step-cooks, though,” said Dorothy, 
thoughtfully. “ Did you know. Grandma, 
that Aggernes’s old cook is gone away ? 
They ’ve got a step-cook and she ’s awfully 
cross. She won’t let us pour water froo 
the flour-sieve as Bridget did, ’cause she 
says it makes it all sticky, an’ it ’s such fun.” 

“ I ’m sure I should n’t, either,” said 
grandma, laughing. “ But now about our 


A New Friend. 


77 


little neighbor. I had meant to go over 
and ask him to come in and play with you 
this afternoon, for I think the poor little 
fellow needs some one to play with. He 
never has played with children at all, his 
father said.” 

“ Don’t ask him. Grandma,” begged 
Dorothy. “He’ll want to play slap- 
games, I know.’ 

“ But now I have another plan,” said 
grandma, not heeding her. “ Suppose 
you go and ask Sarah to make you all 
clean and tidy, and when you are fresh 
again we will take all the blocks and put 
them in a box and take them back to their 
owner right away. Perhaps you ’d make 
friends in earnest, this time.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


ALGERNON. 


HE childrens faces grew long at 



1 grandmas proposal, but she pre- 
tended not to see this, and dismissed them 
both with a kiss apiece. Soon they re- 
turned fresh and smiling and quite restored 
to good-humor. 

“ Now, my little peace-makers,” said 
grandma, rising as they came back, “ put 
all the blocks in this box and we ’ll set 


off.” 


“Yes, Grandma,” answered Dorothy, 
stooping to pick up her poor, torn, pink 
sunbonnet which had been left forgotten 


Algernon. 


79 


on the floor. “ But / was n’t the piece- 
maker. It was that naughty boy that 
tored my bonnet, really ’n’ truly, 
Grandma.” 

“ Oh, what a Dorothy ! Yes, that bon- 
net won’t do to wear again till it has been 
washed and mended. Run and get your 
hat, love.” 

When they were all ready, grandma 
gave Dorothy the box of blocks to carry, 
and they set out. The two little girls, 
looking very serious, trotted along on 
each side of grandma, holding her hand 
tightly. They almost felt as if they were 
going to beard a lion in his den. Every- 
thing, however, was peaceful as they 
went up the path, and no one was in 
sight. The front door stood wide open, 
but no one answered their ring, which was 
twice repeated. Finally, they were just 
turning to go away, when there was a 
sound of screaming, and a door at the 
back of the hall burst open. The boy 


8o 


Dorothy Dot. 


appeared, kicking and slapping a flushed 
maid, who was half dragging him in. 

“ I beg your pardon, ma’am,” the girl 
said, stopping at the sight of the visitors. 
“ Algie was screeching so, I did n’t hear 
the bell. For shame, Algie ! Hush, you 
naughty boy. I ’m most wore out, ma’am, 
for he ’s that bad.” 

Algie, in his surprise at the sight of 
the visitors, stopped screaming for a 
moment. 

Then, recognizing the children, he dart- 
ed behind the maid, shrieking out, “ I 
want my blocks ! Gimme my blocks.” 

“ He ’s been goin’ on that way for an 
hour, ma’am,” said the maid, looking half- 
distracted, “ and I ’ve hunted high and 
low for ’em.” 

‘‘ That ’s a pity, for here they are,” said 
grandma, pleasantly. “ I think some of 
your property found its way over on our 
grounds, my little man,” she added, going 
nearer to Algie, and holding out the box 


Algernon. 


8i 


of blocks. “ My little girls have come 
to say that they are very much obliged 
for your lending them.” 

“ Now, Algie,” said the maid, impa- 
tiently ; “ and you knew where they were 
all the time ! You ’re a bad boy.” 

“ I ain’t ! ” bawled Algie ; “I gave ’em 
to her, ’n’ now I want ’em back.” 

Grandma put the blocks on the floor. 

“ How do they go together ?” she asked. 
“ Dorothy, see if you can make a pic- 
ture.” 

Dorothy and Agnes soon arranged the 
blocks, while the boy gradually came 
nearer, watching them with much interest. 

“ I ’ve got some more,” he suddenly 
exclaimed, darting away, to return with 
the rest of the blocks, and an armful of 
toys. The little girls were very shy at 
first, but he suddenly seemed as gentle 
as a lamb. In a few moments they were 
playing together like old friends, while 
grandma talked to the maid, who stood by. 


82 


Dorothy Dot. 


“No, ma’am, he ain’t always bad like 
this,” said the girl, in answer to grandma’s 
kindly questions. “ He ’s real good, lots of 
times. But he ain’t got no mother, and his 
pa, he spoils him, and his nurse, she ’s an old 
woman, and humors him to death. She had 
to go to town this morning, and could n’t 
possibly take him, so he ’s been as cross as 
two sticks. I ’m Abbie, the waitress.” 

“ Poor little motherless boy,” said grand- 
ma, pityingly, her loving heart yearning 
over the little fellow. “ Can he go home 
with us, and play with the children for a 
little while ?” 

“ Indeed he can, ma’am, and a blessing 
it would be. It ’s been so that he ’s never 
had any children to play with, and I do 
expect he gets lonely.” 

“Very well, I ’ll take him for a little 
while. Come here, my lad,” said grand- 
ma, holding out her hand to the little 
boy; “ I want to know what your name is.” 

“ Algernon M. Otis,” he answered. 


Algernon. 83 

promptly. stands for Algie, and M 

stands for Gernon.” 

Grandma laughed. 

“You have a new alphabet. Does n’t 
the M stand for anything else ? ” 

“ There ’s a Muncy in my name some- 
where,” said Algie, reflecting; “ but I know 
that M stands for Gernon, ’cause my papa 
calls me Algernon on Sundays. All the 
rest days, he calls me Algie.” 

Grandma changed the subject. 

“ I am going home now,” she said, ris- 
ing, “ and Abbie says you may go with us 
for a little while, if you wish.” 

Algie was delighted, and ran away for 
his hat. On the way over to the next 
house the three children ran along to- 
gether in the best of spirits. Grandma 
started them playing on the lawn, and 
then sat down on the piazza again to keep 
them in sight. 

Everything went smoothly for a time, 
when suddenly a wail arose. Algie had 


84 


Dorothy Dot. 


one hand firmly twisted in Dorothy’s curls, 
while with the other he snatched at some- 
thing she held. 

“ Algernon, let go of Dorothy.” At 
the sound of grandma’s voice, and his 
“ Sunday name,” Algie released Dorothy’s 
curls very unwillingly, though he could 
not resist a final slap. 

“ Now I shall take you home, my boy,” 
said grandma, quietly. “ I can’t allow 
you to be so naughty, while you are here, 
at any rate.” 

Grandma’s hands were as firm as they 
were gentle, and though Algie resisted, 
screaming, he soon found himself on the 
other, side of the boundary fence. 

“If you will remember to be gentle 
with the children, Algie,” said grandma, 
before she closed the gate, “ you can come 
Monday and play with them again, but I 
can have no quarrelling. You must be a 
little gentleman, dear, and get over these 
rough ways.” 


Algernon. 


85 


Then to the small boy’s amazement, 
she actually stooped and kissed the scowl- 
ing little face. Algie stared, with a 
scream half uttered. He did not know 
what to make of this treatment. When 
he was naughty at home, the cook often 
boxed his ears and shook him, if his nurse 
was not around, but as a general rule, he 
knew if he kicked and screamed long 
enough, he generally got his own way. 

After the gate was shut, he remained 
staring up at it blankly, feeling very like 
a small Adam shut out of Paradise. It 
was really his first experience of justice 
combined with gentleness and love. Pres- 
ently he turned and crept soberly into the 
house, and Abbie found him, after a time, 
hugging his knees, as he sat in a solemn 
little bunch, on the floor of the nursery. 

“ What makes me so much badder than 
other boys, Abbie ? ” he asked, wistfully. 

“ Why, bless you, child, what makes 
you ask that ? ” said Abbie, startled. 


86 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ She says I can’t come over there ’less 
I ’m gooder,” said Algie, thoughtfully. 
“ But she did n’t hit me. Cook hits me 
when I kick her. Nurse does n’t care if 
I do kick. She lets me have things if I 
kick lots and scream. Abbie, I ’m going 
to be all the gooder I can, so She ’ll let me 
go over there.” 

Abbie, quite touched, gave the grave 
little face a resounding kiss. 

“ You ’re a good boy when you are good, 
Algie,” she said. “ Nobody likes bad 
little boys.” 

“ She kissed me,” said Algie, still 
thoughtfully, touching his cheek, “ and 
you ’ve kissed me. You never kissed me 
before, Abbie. Is it because I ’m going 
to be gooder ? ” And at that, Abbie kissed 
him again. 

After this, a day rarely passed that 
Algie did not slip through the gate in the 
fence in search of Dorothy. School had 
closed for the summer, and you can im- 



“ What makes me so much badder than other boys, Abbie? ” 


87 




88 


Dorothy Dot 


agine what fine times the children had 
together. Grandma kept close watch 
over them, and at the first sign of Algie’s 
quick temper, he was promptly taken 
home. Many a gentle talk grandma had 
with him, till the untrained little boy 
slowly learned to check the angry words, 
and stop before he dealt the hasty blow. 
Dorothy’s own sweet temper, also, had a 
good influence over her little neighbor. 
He really had many lovable traits, for he 
was as generous as he was passionate, and 
if ready to strike a blow, he was equally 
ready to kiss and make friends. His fits 
of passion grew fewer, as he realized that 
for them he was surely shut out for a time 
from his Paradise. So long before the end 
of the summer Dorothy and Algie were 
firm friends. 


F 



CHAPTER VII. 

SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. 

D orothy lay on the sitting-room 
floor, dissolved in tears. It was 
Saturday and she had expected to go to 
spend the afternoon with Celia ; but just 
after dinner, when Abner had gone to 
harness the horse to drive her up there, 
a message came from Celia s mother that 
they just discovered that Nelson had de- 
veloped chicken-pox. Of course it would 
not be possible for her to go there now, 

89 


90 


Dorothy Dot. 


for she might take it herself ; so the plan 
had to be given up. Celia lived so far 
away — more than a mile — that going up 
there was not a constant occurrence like 
going to see Agnes, and Dorothy al- 
ways thought her visits were especially 
nice. To-day was Celias birthday, be- 
sides, and she was to have a birthday 
cake with eight candles on it. Alto- 
gether, it was a terrible disappointment. 

Hullo ! ” said grandpa, coming in, 
and almost walking over the little bundle 
of misery by the sofa. “ Is this a new 
kind of mat we have here ? ” he added, 
picking Dorothy up in his arms. “ No, 
it’s my Dorothy Dot, all running away to 
tears. What can the matter be ?” 

“ It s a dreadful fing the matter,” sniffed 
Dorothy, trying to sop up her tears with 
her wee, wet handkerchief. “ I was go- 
ing to see Celia and play house, and have 
a birfday cake, wif eight candles, and Nel- 
son ’s gone and got the chicken-spots and 


91 


Scylla and Charybdis. 

I can’t go, ’cause Aunt Emma ’s so ’fraid 
I ’ll — get — ’em.” Tears again. 

“ Chicken-spots, hey ? ” said grandpa, 
looking serious. “How did he get them ? ” 

“ I don’t know, ’lets the old hen pecked 
him, when he teased her. He teased ’em 
a lot. Grandpa, ’n’ I should fink they would 
peck him. But I would n’t have taken his 
old chicken-spots, I solomon promise. 
Grandpa, I would n’t. Aunt Emma need n’t 
have been so ’fraid,” said Dorothy, look- 
ing injured. 

“ Dear me, this is a sad state of affairs,” 
said grandpa, taking his big clean hand- 
kerchief to replace Dorothy’s wet crum- 
pled one. “ Now let me tell you that 
Nelson did not get his ‘chicken-spots’ 
from the hen’s pecking him, for it is a 
very disagreeable little disease, that my 
Dorothy Dot might possibly get herself, 
if she went there and played with him and 
with Celia. It brings ugly sores that I ’m 
sure you would n’t like. But chicken-pox 


92 


Dorothy Dot. 


does n’t last long, and by next Saturday, 
or the week after, you can go and have 
your birthday party.” 

Dorothy still looked very mournful, 
but consented to have her tears wiped 
away. 

“ Now, then,” said grandpa, “ I see 
Mrs. Blake’s Martha coming up the path, 
so let us go and see what she has to say.” 

Mrs. Blake’s Martha had come over to 
say that Agnes had a cold and could n’t 
go out, so would n’t Dorothy go over and 
bring her dolls and spend the afternoon 
and take tea with Agnes ? 

This sent the last cloud from Dorothy’s 
face. 

“ Oh, goody ! can I, Grandma? can I ? 
I ’ll take Limpy and my shut-eye baby in 
the baby-buggy, too. I ’ll come right over, 
Marfa, as soon as I ’m dressed,” added 
Dorothy, importantly. “ Don’t you fink 
I might have on my second-bestest dress. 
Grandma ? and my ruffly white apron ? ” 


Scylla and Charybdis. 93 

Before long Dorothy was arrayed in 
her favorite bright red cashmere, that 
made her look like a little robin-redbreast, 
with her soft fluffy black haii* and dark 
eyes. Over it was her white apron with 
ruffles over the shoulders. Limpy had on 
her new dotted muslin ; while the shut-eye 
baby, who, being a new possession, had 
no name yet, was fine in a long, white dress, 
with a red cape and hood. Sarah went 
over with Dorothy to push the “ baby- 
buggy,” as she always called it, since the 
little mother had her hands full with her 
biggest baby, Limpy. 

Agnes was waiting impatiently for her 
little guest, and as soon as she saw her 
coming, she flew down-stairs to meet her. 

“You’ve brought two dolls, an’ I’m 
so glad. Oh, Limpy has a new dress on, 
hasn’t she? Is this your new doll that 
your auntie sent you ? Is n’t she pretty ! 
What ’s her name ? ” 

“ She ’s so little, she has n’t any name 


94 


Dorothy Dot. 


yet,” said Dorothy, taking the baby out of 
the carriage. “ Grandma says I might 
name her Ruf, after Auntie Ruf who sent 
her to me. Do you like that name ? ” 

“ No, I don’t like Ruth,” said Agnes, 
decidedly. “ I like Lulu.” 

“ Grandpa said he fought I ought to 
call her Dorothy Dot Hillard, Junior, 
but I don’t fink I want to, ’cause I ’m 
’fraid people would get her all mixed with 
me.” 

“ What a pretty dress she has on ! Did 
your auntie sent it ? ” 

“Yes. She can talk, too,” said Doro- 
thy, proudly, meaning the doll. And 
sure enough, if you pressed a certain place 
on its stomach, it gave out sounds like 
“papa” and “mamma.” 

“ Is n’t she funny ! ” cried Agnes, press- 
ing the spring till a whole chorus of 
“ mammas ” and “ papas ” was heard. 
“ Let’s take it to see my mamma.” And 
off ran Agnes with the new baby, Dorothy 


95 


Scylla and Charybdis. 

following with Limpy. Mrs. Blake greatly 
admired the doll, which was a young lady 
from Paris. It had curly flaxen hair, eyes 
that would open and shut, a cunning little 
mouth that was a little bit open, and 
showed tiny ivory teeth ; besides all this, 
there was the accomplishment of being 
able to speak in its squeaky voice. Its 
body was of the finest white kid and its 
arms and legs were jointed. 

“That’s a lovely new doll,” said Mrs. 
Blake, giving it back to Agnes. “You will 
love it better than you do Limpy, soon.” 

“ No I won’t,” cried Dorothy, hugging 
big, soft Limpy tighter. “ I never could 
love anything better than I do my Limpy.” 

“ But she ’s very much prettier,” said 
Mrs. Blake. 

“ I don’t care how pretty she is,” said 
Dorothy, persistently. “She is n’t such a 
comf’able baby as Limpy is. I love her 
the bestest of all my children. She never 
breaks her head or anyfing.” 


96 


Dorothy Dot. 


“You’re a loyal little girl,” said Mrs. 
Blake, smiling. “ How is your grandma 
to-day, dear?” for Mrs. Hillard had had 
a bad cold. 

“ She ’s a little bit well,” said Dorothy, 
re-tying Limpy’s sash. “ Her froat hurted 
her yesterday, but it does n’t ache her to- 
day.” 

“ Did she have turkeypine on her 
chest ? ” asked Agnes, eagerly. “ Mamma 
put turkeypine on my chest, and it made 
me so better. I don’t like the smell very 
well, though, do you?” 

Dorothy put her small nose to Agnes’s 
chest to test the smell of the “ turkey- 
pine,” by which she meant turpentine. 

“ No,” she said, drawing back, with her 
nose raised, disapprovingly. “ It smells 
so loud, Aggernes. I don’t fink I like it a 
bit. What let ’s do ? ” 

“ Let ’s play house with my new paper 
furniture, that mamma made for me this 
morning.” And so the never-failing de- 


Scylla and Charybdis. 97 

light of playing house kept the children 
busy for an hour. 

Then Martha, whom the children called 
the “ step-cook ” because she came when 
the old cook who had been there for 
years was married, came in to invite them 
into the kitchen to pop corn. They felt 
very much flattered at this, for the “ step- 
cook” was not as good-natured as old 
Bridget had been, and would not often 
let them into her domain. One reason 
that Martha did not like to have Agnes 
in the kitchen often was because, I am 
sorry to say, that she was rather a med- 
dlesome little girl, and wanted to see and 
handle everything. This made Martha 
very provoked, and it was no wonder. 
But to-day she wanted to “ help the party,” 
she said, so she had a dish of corn already 
shelled for them, a good fire in the range, 
and the popper at hand. 

Everybody knows what fun it is to pop 
corn over a hot fire, when the corn is nice 


98 


Dorothy Dot. 


and dry and pops fast, and the children 
had a fine time over it. They would 
jump and scream with fun as the big ker- 
nels burst open one after another, and 
soon they had a dish nearly full of the 
snowy mass. 

“ Now it must be salted,” said cook. 

“ Oh, let me salt it,” said Agnes, catch- 
ing up a shaker in her hurry. 

“ Stop ! that ’s pepper, and the top is 
loose,” cried cook, quickly ; but too late. 
Agnes gave it such a vigorous shake that 
off flew the loose top, and a dense cloud 
of pepper instantly filled the air, flying 
up noses and eyes, and deluging every- 
thing with a thick, black shower. 

“ Ach-choo ! ach-choo ! ” sneezed every- 
body over and over again, and that vras 
all they could do for five minutes. When 
they could get their breath and stop sneez- 
ing, they all looked as if they had been 
crying for six months. 

“You’re a reg’lar meddlesome Matty,” 


Scylla and Charybdis. 99 

cook said, decidedly crossly, as soon as 
she could speak. “ Won’t you never learn 
to let things alone, Agnes? You’ve 
given us all the sneezes and spiled the 
hull mess o’ corn.” 

“ That little bit of pepper won’t hurt 
anything,” said Agnes, scornfully, stuffing 
a whole handful of the well-peppered corn 
into her mouth ; but she very speedily 
changed her mind. “ Ow ! Ow!” she 
shrieked, hastily depositing her whole 
mouthful in the coal-scuttle. “ Oh, how 
my mouth burns ! Please give me some 
water ! ” She ran about with her little 
red tongue hanging out like a dog’s. 

Of course it burns,” said Martha, not 
very sympathizingly. “ Hope it will teach 
you not to touch things so quick,” and 
she gave her the water. “Now you ’ve 
wasted all that .corn, and we ’ll have to 
pop some more, ’n’ if anything happens 
to this, you won’t get any more, I tell 
you that.” 


lOO 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ I won’t touch it,” promised Agnes. 
“ I ’ll let you salt it your own self.” 

Martha had to go out in the woodshed 
to shell some more corn, and the children 
sat down on the kitchen settle to wait. 
They were close beside the long kitchen 
table, and presently Agnes pulled open 
one of the deep drawers. In the bottom 
were some smooth, white chunks that 
looked like cream candy. 

“Just look here,” exclaimed Agnes, in 
delight. “ See what Martha has put 
away here ! What lots ! I ’m going to 
have a taste.” 

“ Marfa won’t like you to touch it,” 
said Dorothy ; but she, too, was very much 
interested over this discovery. 

“ It ’s a little bit dirty on this side,” 
said Agnes, turning one of the chunks 
over, carefully. “ I ’xpect Martha ’s had it 
for a long time. P’raps she ’s forgotten 
all about it, and does n’t want it. Would 
you take a taste. Dot ? ” 


Scylla and Charybdis. loi 

“Would you?" said Dorothy, hesitat- 
ing. It looked good, and she thought 
she would really like a taste. “ Shall we 
ask Marfa?” 

“No, I shan’t. She’s cross, about the 
pepper. I think she ought n’t to keep 
the pepper in that loose-top shaker. 
’Course it came off. It was n’t my fault 
a bit. It was Martha’s, her own self. 
Take a taste. Dot.” Agnes tried to 
break off a piece and found it separated 
easily. 

“ Shut your mouth and open your 
eyes — no, open your mouth and shut 
your eyes, and I ’ll give you something 
to make you wise. Hurry. There comes 
Martha.” And Agnes popped a bit into 
Dorothy’s mouth, put a good-sized piece 
into her own, and shut the drawer 
hastily. 

The next moment, when Martha en- 
tered the kitchen with her dish of shelled 
corn, two wretched-looking children with 


102 Dorothy Dot. 

wide-open mouths and tongues out, greeted 
her. 

“ Well, I never ! what you done now ?” 
she asked, setting down her pan of corn. 
“ Whatever s this?” as she stepped on 
some little lumps and nearly slipped. 

“We fought it was cream candy, Marfa,” 
said Dorothy, as well as she could for the 
dreadful taste in her mouth. “ But it 
is n’t and my mouf tastes so bad that I ’m 
sick.” 

“ Land o’ Goshen ! ” said Martha, 
“ you ’ve ben a eatin’ my soap that I 
made!” For truly this delicious-looking 
cream candy was home-made kitchen soap. 

Poor little Dorothy had swallowed her 
bit of soap in her first haste, and it now 
made her very sick at her stomach. Ag- 
nes’s piece was so large that she had spit 
it out after the first taste. Martha called 
Mrs. Blake, who came running in. 

“You poor little dear,” she said, taking 
Dorothy up in her arms after Martha had 


Scylla and Charybdis. 103 

told her what was the matter. “ It ’s too 
bad that you should suffer because Agnes 
was meddlesome.” She carried the little 
girl off up-stairs to the bath-room, bidding 
Agnes sit down in a certain chair in the 
sitting-room and wait till she came down 
again. 

Poor Dorothy was sick at her stomach 
for a time ; then she began to feel some- 
what better, and at last she was ready to 
go down-stairs and “ finish the party,” 
she said. Agnes, who had been sitting 
perfectly still on her appointed chair 
during all the time, was not sorry to be 
released. 

Dorothy looked a little white still. 

“ I am so sorry. Dot,” said Agnes, 
remorsefully. “ I never knew that soap 
looked like cream candy before.” 

“ Never mind, Aggernes,” said sweet- 
tempered Dorothy. “We didn’t ought 
to have touched fings when we did n’t 
know what they were.” 


104 Dorothy Dot. 

By this time it was five o’clock and the 
time when Agnes usually had her supper. 
But Mrs. Blake said that she would put 
it off, as she knew that Dorothy did not 
feel like eating anything yet. So she 
took both the children up in her lap as 
she sat in a big arm-chair by the fireplace, 
and told them stories until, at half-past 
five, Martha came to say that the children’s 
supper was ready. She had spread it in 
the bay-window in the dining-room, on 
Agnes’s little table, using the doll’s dishes, 
which were an unusually large set and 
held a very good supply for the little girls. 
But Dorothy’s appetite had not arrived, 
and she could only taste of her milk and 
toast and currant-bread and all the other 
goodies. She was not at all sorry to see 
Sarah when she came, promptly at seven. 

How grandpa laughed when Dorothy, 
safe in the harbor of grandma’s arms, and 
clad in her little nightie and dressing- 
gown, told the story ! 


Scylla and Charybdis. 105 

“ That was hard luck, Dorothy Dot,” 
he said, “ to escape from the Scylla of the 
‘chicken-spots,’ only to fall on the Charyb- 
dis of the soap.” 

“ What does grandpa mean by Scylla 
and Ribdicks ? ” asked Dorothy with a sigh. 
She loved grandpa dearly, but he certainly 
did love to tease her with long words. 

“ I ’m afraid you would n’t understand 
very well, dear, if I should tell you,” said 
grandma. 

“ Tell me,” begged Dorothy. “ I ’ll try 
to understand.” 

“Well, then, love,” said grandma, “on 
the other side of the wide ocean, in 
Europe, there is a place where there is a 
narrow strait or strip of water between 
the mainland and an island, where the 
waters rush through very, very fast. On 
one side of it there was a great whirlpool 
where the water went round and round, 
and if any ship went too near it, it was 
caught in the whirlpool and disappeared. 


io6 Dorothy Dot. 

On the other side were some dangerous 
rocks and crags, and if a ship struck these, 
it would be dashed to pieces. Once upon 
a time — and that means a very long time 
ago, dear — people believed that a dread- 
ful monster lived in each one of these 
places. Charybdis lived in the whirlpool, 
and Scylla, a terrible creature with six 
heads and as many big mouths, and twelve 
feet and twelve- hands, lived among the 
rocks. These .hands would seize men 
from any ship that passed near enough, 
and Scylla would devour them. Often- 
times, a pilot, steering his boat very care- 
fully to keep out of her reach, would 
suddenly find himself within reach of the 
horrid monster Charybdis, who lived in 
the whirlpool, you know. So grandpa 
says that we kept you home from Celia’s 
to avoid the Scylla of the chicken-pox, 
and then you went to see Agnes, and fell 
upon the Charybdis of being sick by eat- 
ing soap.” 


Scylla and Charybdis. 107 

“ I see,” said Dorothy, wisely. “ Chicken- 
spots is Scylla, and soap is Ribdicks. 
Grandma, I fink that ’s a very good name 
for it, for I felt so queer under my ribs.” 


CHAPTER VIIL 



A LGIE’S father was very ill indeed; 

so ill that after a few days a 
trained nurse came to take care of him. 
The house had to be kept very quiet, and 
everybody stole around on tiptoe. At 

io8 


A Piece of Mischief. 109 

first Algie was very good and tried not to 
make a noise, but after the first two or 
three days he grew used to the thought 
of his father s being sick, and forgot quite 
as often as he remembered. 

He did not like the new nurse ^ all, 
for she often came out and checked his 
thoughtless noise very sharply. Algie 
really meant to be quiet, but he never had 
been used to thinking of anybody but 
himself. 

“ Algernon,” said the nurse very sternly 
one day, when she came out to stop his 
clattering up and down the long hall on a 
broomstick for a horse, “ if you make any 
more noise this afternoon I ’ll shut you up 
in a dark closet till your father is better. 
You ’ve just waked him up from the first 
sleep he ’s had to-day, with your terrible 
racket.” 

Algie, who was really sorry and ashamed, 
did not like to say so. 

“ Ho ! ” he answered instead. “ Shut me 


I lO 


Dorothy Dot. 


up, will you ? I ’ll shut you up ! ” In an- 
swer to which naughty speech, the nurse 
picked him up in her strong arms and, 
holding one hand over his mouth to stop 
his outcry, she bore him struggling to 
the nursery, which was at the other side 
of the house. She set him down on the 
floor much harder than was necessary. 

“ Mrs. Martin,” she said to Algie’s 
nurse, who was sitting sewing by the win- 
dow, “ please keep this bad boy in here 
and keep him quiet. I don’t know what 
will happen if his father hears any more 
noise. Don’t let him come on the other 
side of the house again to-day. Such 
spoiled children ought to be well spanked.” 
She went out, leaving Algie in a furious 
rage on the floor. 

“ I hate her ! I hate her ! ” he screamed, 
kicking angrily. 

“ For shame, Algie,” said his nurse, 
“when you know what good care she 
takes of your poor father. Do be a good 


A Piece of Mischief. 


1 1 1 


little boy and don’t make any more noise 
to-day, and I ’ll make you some little 
frosted cakes to-morrow with raisins in 
them.” 

“ I don’t want raisins, I want citron in 
’em,” said the spoiled boy. 

“Well, citron, then. Come here, and 
I ’ll tell you a story.” 

“ I know all your old stories. I want to 
play soldier.” 

“ But you can’t play soldier, dearie, for 
you make such a noise. Come and let 
me show you some pictures.” 

“ I won’t. I don’t want to do anything 
but make a noise.” 

“ Oh, dear,” sighed Mrs. Martin, “ I 
suppose boys have to make a noise. Why 
don’t you go down to the barn, then ? ” 

“ I don’t want to make a noise in the 
barn ; I want to make a noise right here.” 

This poor child had never in his life 
been made to do anything he did n’t want 
to do by his old nurse. He knew she 


I 12 


Dorothy Dot. 


would always let him do exactly as he 
chose, and so with her he was naughtier 
than he was with any one else. He had 
already learned to obey Mrs. Hillard’s 
first word, when he was playing with 
Dorothy, for he knew she meant what she 
said, and that, kind as she was, there were 
certain things she would never allow, and 
if he did them, the punishment of being 
immediately sent home was sure to follow. 
He really did not care so much now about 
making a noise as he did about teasing 
nurse, and making her think he would do 
it. He really loved his father dearly, and 
meant to be quiet, and it was only because 
he did not have the habit of obedience 
that he so constantly forgot. 

“ There ! look out and see who ’s com- 
ing,” said the nurse, suddenly ; and Algie 
ran to the window. Dorothy and Agnes 
were coming up the walk^ Dorothy very 
carefully carrying a covered dish. It was 
something for his father, for Mrs. Hillard 


A Piece of Mischief. 


113 

often sent over some little dainty that she 
thought he might eat. Algie ran down- 
stairs. Abbie had just opened the front 
door, and was taking the dish from 
Dorothy. 

“ Come in,” said Algie, eagerly. “ I ’m 
awful glad you Ve come.” 

“ Grandma did not tell us we could 
stay,” said Dorothy, doubtfully ; but Al- 
gie drew her in by the hand. 

“ Oh yes, you can. That old nurse 
says I ve got to keep quiet, and I just 
cant keep quiet all alone. I guess I 
should bust. Come in the sitting-room, 
’n’ father can’t hear in there, anyway. 
Come and see my new parrot that my 
uncle sent me.” 

The parrot was a great attraction, of 
course, and the little girls immediately 
followed him in. Abbie shut the sitting- 
room door after them, bidding them keep 
very quiet. The parrot was great fun, 
for he was very sociable, and had already 


Dorothy Dot. 


114 

learned Algie’s name and sung it out over 
and over. He knew many sentences also, 
and would say one after the other as fast 
as possible, and then laugh as hard as he 
could. Presently he astonished them all 
by calling out, “ Dot ! Dot ! ” in his funny, 
squeaky voice, cocking his head on one 
side, as if he were wondering which of his 
visitors was Dot. ' 

While they were thus playing. Miss 
Cole, the nurse, came in. 

There was a closet in the room, by the 
mantelpiece, into which she stepped to 
get something. Quick as a flash Algie 
sprang up and slammed the closet door. 

Now, Algie knew that closet well. There 
was no knob on the inside, so any one 
shut in there could not get out. Algie 
had shut himself in there not long ago, by 
accident, when no one was near enough 
to hear his kicks and cries, — and if they 
had been, for that matter, his kicks and 
cries were far too frequent to attract 



■ iii'M'.V 

I t&uk \ 




limi 


II5 









Dorothy Dot. 


1 16 

much attention — so he had been a pris- 
oner for nearly two hours. Therefore 
he realized fully that the nurse could not 
get out. 

“ There ! ” he said, in triumph, “ the 
old thing said she ’d shut me up in the 
closet, and I guess she ’ll see how she 
likes it herself.” 

Dorothy and Agnes looked frightened 
to death at this idea. 

“ Can’t she get out ? ” asked Dot, 
anxiously, as Miss Cole beat upon the 
door, and ordered them to let her out 
directly. 

“ Bime-by I ’ll let her out. I did it for 
a joke,” said Algie, in a lordly way. 

“ Guess she ’ll be careful how she talks to- 
me, after this. Come on, let ’s go swing 
in the hammock,” and he ran .off, pulling 
the little girls along. 

Poor Miss Cole could scarcely believe 
that the children had actually gone off and 
left her, a prisoner, there. Their voices 


A Piece of Mischief. 


117 

died away in the distance, but she con- 
tinued to scream loudly for assistance. 
Unfortunately Abbie and the cook were 
too far away in the kitchen to hear her. 
Mrs. Martin was quietly sewing up-stairs, 
and the children were in the garden. 
Her patient, she knew, would be waiting 
for her return, and she grew nearly fran- 
tic. She pounded and knocked till her 
knuckles were black and blue. 

Naughty Algie, meanwhile, soon forget- 
ting his anger, was playing as merrily as 
if nothing had happened. Indeed, in the 
interest of hide-and-seek they almost for- 
got Miss Cole. Dorothy did say two or 
three times, “ Shan’t we let her out now ? ” 
and Algie said, “ In a minute.” But 
children’s minutes are always very long, 
as we all know. So the minute length- 
ened to half an hour. Miss Cole steadily 
pounded and called ; her patient up-stairs 
turned and tossed feverishly, calling for 
water ; the time for his medicine passed 


ii8 Dorothy Dot. 

by — all owing to a little bo^’s thoughtless 
mischief. 

Just here, grandma, wondering that she 
had seen nothing of Dorothy for some 
time, suddenly remembered that she had 
not seen her since she had sent her to the 
next house with the jelly, and went over 
to bring her back. The children had just 
run around to the well for a drink, so no 
one was in sight when grandma went in 
the yard. Abbie came to the door. 

“ Yes, the children are round here some- 
wheres,” she said ; “ I seen ’em a minute 
ago.” 

“ Could they be making that pound- 
ing ? ” asked grandma, anxiously. “ Dear 
me ! how that must disturb Mr. Otis ! 
Will you find them at once, Abbie ? and 
I ’ll take them home.” 

“ I ’ve heard that pounding for some 
time, when I went in the dining-room, 
and it seemed as if it must be the children ; 
yet that sounds like in the house, does n’t 


A Piece of Mischief. 


119 

it? and I know the children are out- 
doors.” 

“ Listen,” said grandma. “ It comes 
from the sitting-room.” She and Abbie 
went in quickly. Miss Cole, hearing 
voices, pounded louder. Abbie flew 
across the room and opened the door. 


CHAPTER IX. 



P OOR Miss Cole stood there, so ex- 
cited and nervous and indignant 
with her long imprisonment that she was 
nearly ready to cry. 

“ That little wretch of a boy ! ” she ex- 


120 


The Result. 


I2I 


claimed, breathlessly. “Yes, he locked 
me in, and ran away. I can’t stay in the 
house any longer unless that child is sent 
off. Oh, I ’m so frightened about Mr. 
Otis ! ” and she darted away to look after 
her patient, leaving Abbie and grandma 
staring at one another in surprise. 

''Could Algie have locked her in?” 
asked grandma. 

“He must have,” said Abbie, looking 
frightened. “ I never knew him to do such 
a thing before, though lots of times he 
hides our things just for mischief, and such 
like.” 

At this moment the children came troop- 
ing around the house. Coming under the 
sitting-room windows, Algie suddenly 
remembered his prisoner. 

“ Oh, my ! I forgot all about Miss Cole. 
Guess I ’ll go and let her out. Guess she 
won’t say anything about locking me up 
again,” and into the house he started. 
He stopped short at the sight of Mrs. 


122 Dorothy Dot. 

Hillard and Abbie and the open closet 
door. 

“ You talk to him, Mrs. Hillard,” begged 
Abbie. “He cares more for what you 
say than for anybody else, and he ought 
to be whipped by rights, for such a trick. 
His poor pa might die all alone up there.” 

Algie, looking very guilty, tried to slip 
from the room, but Abbie caught and 
held him firmly, while the little girls, 
much frightened, peered in at the door. 
Grandma sent them both home directly, 
for she herself was alarmed at what might 
have happened up-stairs all this time, and 
meant to stay till she knew whether Mr. 
Otis was worse for being left alone so 
long. 

“ Go up-stairs quickly, Abbie,” she cried, 
“and see if he’s all right. Come here, 
my dear,” she added, holding out her hand 
to Algie. He came forward slowly, looking 
very uneasy. He had never thought, when 
he slammed the door on the nurse, that 


The Result. 


123 


his sick father was waiting for her up-stairs. 
Before grandma could speak to him, 
Abbie came hurrying down-stairs looking 
pale and frightened. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Hillard,” she said, “ Miss 
Cole says Mr. Otis is dreadful sick again. 
He got faint while she was gone, and there 
was nobody to give him anything, and she 
can’t leave him a ipinute, but she ’d like 
to speak to you a minute, if you would n’t 
mind stepping up.” 

Mrs. Hillard hurried up-stairs, leaving 
Algie with Abbie. 

“ Now, sir, see what you ’ve done ! ” cried 
Abbie. “ P’raps your pa won’t get well 
because you locked up the nurse. See 
what ’s come of your mischief now ! ” and 
then Abbie, half crying, went out into the 
kitchen to tell cook. 

Algie, dismayed and pale, was left alone. 
What if his father should die, all on ac- 
count of his locking up the nurse ? How 
patiently his father had carried him up 


124 


Dorothy Dot. 


and down, sometimes half the night, last 
winter when Algie had been sick, because 
the little boy thought he felt better so 
than when he lay in bed ! How his father 
had read to him and played with him and 
amused him as he was getting better, and 
sat by him till he fell asleep ! And now 
he had been very naughty and had n’t tried 
half hard enough to be quiet. “ But that old 
nurse was so cross,” he said to himself. 
Still he knew very well that that did n’t 
make any difference. He should have 
kept quiet, and then she would n’t have 
scolded him, and he would n’t have gotten 
angry. It was his fault, and he was a bad 
little boy. His really tender conscience 
was aroused, and, frightened and lonely, 
he began to cry softly, feeling very 
wretched as he sat squeezed up on the 
floor in his favorite attitude, in a little 
bunch. 

He did not hear Mrs. Hillard’s step be- 
hind him, nor know that she had come 


The Result. 


125 


down-stairs, till he suddenly felt her lov- 
ing arms around him, and was lifted up 
on to her lap. 

“ My poor little boy,” she said, pitifully. 
“ Your piece of mischief has nearly been a 
very serious one.” 

Algie understood the tone though he 
did not the words. 

“Will my father die?” he whispered, 
terribly frightened. 

“ I hope not, dear, though he is much 
worse, and we have sent for the doctor to 
come directly. Tell me how you hap- 
pened to lock Miss Cole in the closet.” 

Algie wept out his little story on Mrs. 
Hillard’s shoulder. 

“ It was only a jo-oke,” he sobbed. “ I 
did n’t think about father, ’n’ I just 
slammed the door quick, ’cause she ’d 
said she ’d shut me up, ’n’ I thought I ’d 
get the bulge on her, ’n’ I thought I ’d 
keep her there just a minute for fun, ’n’ 
then we went ou’doors ’n’ I forgot all 


126 


Dorothy Dot. 


about her, ’n’ I don’t want my father — to 
— d-ie,” his voice rising to a perfect 
shriek. 

Mrs. Hillard soothed him gently till he 
was quiet again. Then the doctor came, 
and before he went up-stairs she went out 
and told him in a few words how it had 
happened that Mr. Otis had been left 
alone for an hour. When he had gone 
up-stairs, she came back and finished her 
talk with Algie. He promised eagerly 
that he would never again play any kind 
of a joke that he would n’t like played on 
himself and that he would beg Miss Cole’s 
pardon just as soon as he could see her. 

“’N’ I ’ll keep as still as a mice till my 
father ’s well again,” he announced. 

I am very glad to tell you that this 
“joke” of Algie’s on the nurse did not, 
after all, end so badly as it might have 
done. The doctor and Miss Cole had an 
anxious time for a day or two, and then 
Mr. Otis slowly began to grow better. 


The Result. 


127 


Algie kept his promise faithfully about 
keeping quiet, till Miss Cole said she 
could hardly believe it was the same boy. 

A very proud and happy little lad he 
was. when his father said to him one day, 
when he was much better : 

“ I feel as if I had a grown-up young 
man in the house, Algernon, my son. 
You’re getting to be a great comfort to 
me, and you know I have n’t any one else 
but my little boy to love.” 



CHAPTER X. 


THE LITTLE BLACK CHEST. 

D orothy,” said grandma, one 
morning, “ before you go to 
school, run into grandpa’s office and lay 
these letters on his desk.” 

Grandpa’s office was a little room built 
on to one side of the house. It had an 
entrance of its own and also a door lead- 
ing from the back parlor. 

Grandpa was Justice of the Peace — 
Squire Hillard, his neighbors called him, 

128 


The Little Black Chest. 


129 


— so he had this office, when people came 
to see him on all sorts of business. 

Dorothy ran across the hall, through 
the back parlor, down two little steps, 
which landed her in the office. No one 
was there, for grandpa had started very 
early for Drayton on business. She laid 
the letters on the desk, putting on them 
a handsome, heavy paper-weight that 
stood there, as she had often seen grand- 
ma do. The paper-weight was made of 
bronze in the shape of a deer’s head with 
branching horns, and Dorothy was never 
tired of admiring it. She stood for a 
moment now, turning it this way and 
that, and tracing wdth her little dimpled 
finger each one of the spreading horns, 
as she had often done before. 

Suddenly she noticed a quaint little 
black chest standing on the back of grand- 
pa’s desk. She knew it well, though 
usually it stood in grandpa’s little safe. 
She instantly wanted to examine it. It 


130 


Dorothy Dot. 


was just the shape and size of a doll’s 
trunk, of black, shining wood, with silver 
bands and clasps, and Dorothy had always 
longed to have it for her own. She had 
a doll’s trunk, to be sure, but it was not 
such a beauty as this, and this would hold 
all Limpy’s clothes so nicely. A tiny 
silver key was in the lock. This key, as 
Dorothy well knew, was generally in 
grandpa’s waistcoat pocket, and must have 
been left here by mistake. 

Dorothy drew her finger along the sil- 
ver bands, till it struck the little key, 
wondering all the time what could be 
inside that grandpa kept so carefully, for 
she had never seen him open it. The 
more she wondered, the more she wanted 
to know. Then she wondered how that 
little key turned, and how the lid looked 
when it was up. She heard a little voice 
in her heart saying : 

“ Dorothy, run away and don’t touch.” 
But I ’m sorry to say that she did n’t heed 


The Little Black Chest. 


131 

the little voice, which by and by stopped 
talking to a small girl that would not 
listen. She did want to know so much 
what was in that box that grandpa kept 
locked all the time. Perhaps the box 
was n’t locked now, and then it would n’t 
be any harm just to open it. Of course, 
she would n’t unlock it, but 

Somehow, Dorothy’s other hand was 
on the chest, — trying the cover. It moved 
instantly. Indeed, it almost came up itself, 
for Dorothy thought that such a little touch 
as she gave it could n’t really have opened 
it. As it went up Dorothy drew her breath 
in astonishment. What do you think the 
little chest was almost full of ? Why, 
shining coins of gold and silver and bronze 
and copper. Dorothy did not know, of 
course, that these were all rare or curious 
coins from other countries, that grandpa 
had been collecting for years. 

It was untold wealth to Dorothy’s daz- 
zled eyes. She thought this was the 


132 


Dorothy Dot. 


place where grandpa kept all his money. 

“ Oh, my sakes, how awful rich grandpa 
is ! ” she said to herself, in awe. 

Growing bolder as she looked, she 
ventured to take up one of the bright 
bits of money, that looked like new 
pennies. What fun it would be if only 
she had a little doll’s trunk like this, full 
of shining coins, to go to whenever she 
wanted a penny ! How much nicer than 
just the five cents that mamma allowed 
her every week. She turned the “ penny ” 
over and over. It was prettier than any 
she had ever seen before. 

“ I should fink they ’d make ’em all 
like this,” she said, admiringly. 

“How I wish I could have this!” she 
thought, looking wistfully at the bright 
bit that lay in her palm. “ Grandpa most 
always gives me pennies when I ask him. 
Pro’bly he ’d love to give me this penny 
if he was here, if he knew how much I 
want it.” Yet all the time she had a feel- 


The Little Black Chest. 


133 


mg that that was some special money 
which perhaps grandpa would n’t want to 
give away. 

“ Go and ask grandma,” said the little 
voice in her heart. 

“’T is n’t grandma’s, an’ she would n’t 
know about it,” she argued to herself. 
“ I ’m just perfelly sure that grandpa would 
let me have it.” 

Oh, naughty little Dot. 

Suddenly she heard footsteps at the 
outside door. Down dropped the lid 
and away flew Dot, but alas ! the 
“ penny ” was tightly clasped in her little 
hot hand. 

It was more than time to set off for 
school, so she put on her hat, took up 
her little book and slate, and started off, 
not waiting for grandma’s good-by kiss, 
which she had never missed before. 

“ What should she do with her 
‘penny’?” 

Naughty, naughty little Dot. 


134 


Dorothy Dot. 


On the way to school she passed a tiny 
little fruit store which an Italian kept. 

The sight of the stacks of golden or- 
anges decided Dot as to what she should 
do with her penny. She knew the man, for 
she had often been in there with grandpa, 
so she went in without hesitation. 

‘‘ Goo’ day, leetle mees,” said smiling 
’Tonio, as Dot looked shyly around. She 
was not used to going shopping by her- 
self. 

“ Please, Mr. ’Tonio,” she said, stretch- 
ing up on her tiptoes to look over the 
counter, “ I ’d like an orange,” and she 
laid her bright penny on the counter. 

“One o-range?” said ’Tonio. “Yes, 
leetle mees. Hold up de leetle skirt, an’ 
dou shall have many o-ranges. Behold ! ” 

And to Dorothy’s great surprise he 
poured into her apron not one, but a 
whole dozen of big, luscious, yellow or- 
anges, till the wee maid almost staggered 
under the load. 


The Little Black Chest. 


135 


“ Dere,” said ’Tonio, with a grin of sat- 
isfaction. “ Dose is for de child of de 
good gran’fadder.” 

Dorothy stared in frightened dismay. 
All those oranges for one penny ? She 
did not know that her grandpa had been 
very kind to ’Tonio, had lent him money 
to begin business, and had helped him in 
many ways. ’Tonio, supposing Dorothy 
had been sent to buy an orange, heaped 
up good measure. But Dorothy was 
only frightened by the quantity. What 
should she do with them ? She was too 
shy to refuse them, and she certainly 
could not eat them all. Indeed, she could 
scarcely carry them. She could not take 
them home, for somehow she was very 
unwilling to tell grandma how she had 
gotten them, though she still stoutly main- 
tained to herself that she knew grandpa 
would love to let her have the penny. 

She went slowly out of the little store, 
with the oranges a double weight on her 


136 


Dorothy Dot. 


hands and on her little conscience, leaving 
good ’Tonio much surprised that his gen- 
erous measure was not received with more 
thanks. 

By this time it was after nine o’clock, 
and the last school-bell had rung. Dorothy 
stood still at the corner in great unhappi- 
ness. She could not make up her mind to 
go to school late, with no “ escuse,” and 
with all those oranges. What should she 
do ? For she was equally unwilling to go 
home. A small, ragged boy passed at this 
moment, eying the apronful of oranges 
enviously. 

“ Say, kid, gimme one o’ them oranges,” 
he said as he went by, never expecting 
she would, but Dorothy joyfully jumped 
at the suggestion. 

“Yes, you may have one,” she said ea- 
gerly. “ Do you know any ovver person 
who would like one ? ” 

“ My eye ! ” said the small boy in much 
surprise, “ I guess there ain’t nothin’ the 








Dorothy Stood Still at the Corner 


137 



Dorothy Dot 


138 

matter with my takin’ two, then,” and help- 
ing himself hastily to another, he ran 
off, lest this strange little girl should sud- 
denly repent of her generosity. 

Next Dorothy saw a teamster whom 
she knew by sight, and she called out to 
him to stop. When he drew up his 
horses she asked him, shyly, if he did n’t 
want an orange. 

“ Ben a-gatherin’ yer orange crop ? ” he 
asked, laughing, as he stretched down 
his hand to take the orange which Doro- 
thy passed up to him. But Dot ran off. 
Unfortunately, no one else came in sight 
before she reached the schoolhouse, and 
scarcely knowing what to do, she sat down 
on the steps, miserable enough. She had 
thought an orange, her favorite fruit, 
would be so nice, and now it choked her 
merely to look at one of them. Why had 
that man given her many, when she only 
wanted one ? Poor little naughty girl, she 
was a little Midas in petticoats — and if 


The Little Black Chest. 


139 


you don’t know what that means, get some 
one to tell you. 

Suddenly the door from the schoolroom 
into the lobby opened, and as she peeped 
around the door-post cautiously, she saw, 
— oh joy ! — that it was her cousin Celia, 
who went to the water-bucket, which stood 
in the corner of the lobby. 

“ Oh, Celia ! ” cried Dorothy, jumping 
up so quickly that her golden crop rolled 
in every direction. 

“ Why, Dorothy Dot ! ” returned Celia, 
in great surprise. “ Whatever are you 
doing out here with all those oranges ? ” 

“ ’Tonio gived ’em to me,” said Dorothy, 
hesitating a little. “ I spended only a 
penny, and he gived me too many,” she 
half sobbed. 

Celia was puzzled, not knowing, of 
course, the secret of Dot’s trouble — the 
penny with which she bought them. 

“ But I think it was awfully nice and 
' generous of him to give you all these,” 


140 Dorothy Dot. 

she said. “ Why don’t you like so many ? 
Besides, you could give ’em away.” 

“ I did give some of ’em away,” said 
Dorothy. “ I gived some to a little rag- 
ged boy in the street, and one to John, 
that driver-man, but there ’s lots left,” and 
Dorothy disconsolately looked at the fruit, 
not even attempting to pick it up. 

“ Well, I think you ’re a funny girl,” 
said Celia, wonderingly. “ Pick ’em up, 
anyway, and put ’em under my sacque 
here, and at recess you can give ’em to 
the girls, if you don’t want ’em. Guess 
I ’ll get my oranges of ’Tonio after this.” 

Dorothy did not answer, but picked up 
the fruit slowly, Celia helping her, and 
they stowed them away in a corner, under 
Celia’s little sacque. 

Dorothy did not know why she felt so 
dull and quiet, and so “ achey in her 
stomach.” That penny rested very heavily 
on her small conscience. 

Dorothy went into the schoolroom 


The Little Black Chest. 


141 

quite bravely under Celia’s wing, and Mr. 
Jacobs did not even notice her, much to 
her relief. She learned her spelling-les- 
son very carefully, and studied every word 
in her reading. But in the class she 
covered herself with confusion, and made 
the children laugh, by reading, “ There 
are two pretty blue pennies in the round 
nest,” instead of “two pretty blue eggs.” 
That made her so wretched, added to her 
other unhappiness, that two big tears 
rolled right out of her black eyes, down 
her pink cheeks. 

“ Never mind,” said Mr. Jacobs, very 
kindly. Then the tears came like rain. 

“ I don’t fink p’raps I feel very well,” 
she sobbed, as Mr. Jacobs tried to find 
out what was the matter. 

“Would you like to go home?” he 
asked. 

But Dorothy shook her head, decidedly. 

“ No, no,” said the wretched little girl, 
through her tears. She could n’t bear the 


142 


Dorothy Dot. 


thought of going home and having grand- 
ma ask her what was the matter, and tell- 
ing her about that penny. Oh, dear ! 
dear ! 

Mr. Jacobs was puzzled, too, but he sent 
her to her seat with the other children. 

Dorothy put her head down on her 
desk. “You should n’t have touched the 
penny,” whispered conscience, finding a 
chance to be heard, and poor little Dot 
cried quietly till recess. When the recess- 
bell rang, the other children gathered 
around her curiously. 

“ There are the oranges, you know,” 
whispered Celia. “ Don’t you feel well. 
Dot ? ” 

“ GJve ’em all to ’em,” said Dorothy, 
as best she could, thinking she would feel 
better if once those wretched oranges 
were out of the way. “ I don’t want 
any,” and Celia, wondering what could be 
the matter with her little cousin, but also 
anxious to draw the curious eyes from her. 


The Little Black Chest. 


143 


led the way to the lobby, and then cut 
and divided the oranges till every little 
girl had a taste. 

Meanwhile, Dorothy was changing her 
mind about taking the penny. 

“ I guess — I did n’t ought — to take — 
it,” she sobbed to herself ; and then such a 
wave of misery came over her that sud- 
denly she felt she could bear it no longer. 
Scrambling out of her seat in a hurry she 
stumLled down her aisle, blinded by her 
tears, to ask Mr. Jacobs to be excused. 
Then she hurried into her little hat and 
jacket, and, unheeding the curious ques- 
tioning of the other children,- not even 
answering Celia’s loving words, ran home 
as fast as her little feet could carry her. 

Grandma was in the sitting-room by her 
favorite sunny south window. She heard 
the rush of feet on the piazza and through 
the hall, and then in a moment woe-begone 
Dorothy sprang into her out-stretched 


arms, 


144 


Dorothy Dot. 


“You wouldn’t hug me, Grandma, if 
you knew I ’d been the baddest girl ever 
was,” said Dorothy, through her tears, 
with both her arms tight around grand- 
ma’s neck, and her face hidden in her 
shoulder. It was some little time before 
she could tell grandma all about it, after 
her long crying, but at last the story was 
out. 

“ ’N’ I don’t want any more oranges, 
ever^' finished Dorothy, earnestly. “ ’N’ 
I don’t want any more pennies to spend if 
I finded a million fousand of ’em, ’lets you 
gived ’em to me. Grandma. Wouldn’t 
you have given me that penny, if I had 
asked you ? ” 

“ No, dear,” said grandma, greatly to 
Dorothy’s surprise. 

“ Why, Grandma / ” she cried, “ I 
fought in course ybu ’d give it to me, 
’relse I would n’t have taken it, really ’n’ 
truly.” 

“ It was just as naughty either way, my 


The Little Black Chest. 


145 


little girl. You had no right to open 
the chest, which you knew was usually 
kept locked, or to have taken the money 
out, no matter what you thought. How 
shall I feel I can trust this little maid 
again ? ” 

Dorothy’s face grew scarlet. Presently 
she burst out with : 

“ I promise. Grandma, I solomon 
promise not to do it again, never. I ’m 
all the sorrier I can be, ’lets I burst 
being sorry. Grandma. Please, please, 
trust me.” 

“ It ’s the very first time I ’ve ever 
known of your touching anything that 
didn’t belong to you, dear, so I think I 
must say that I will forgive it, and trust 
you just the same. Now let me tell you 
why I could n’t have given you that 
‘penny,’ as you call it, even if you had 
asked me. That little chest contains 
many curious coins or pieces of money 
that have been brought from all parts of 


146 


Dorothy Dot. 


the world. Some of them have cost a 
great deal of money. This piece is a 
Russian coin and is worth many dollars,” 
and grandma held up before Dorothy’s 
astonished eyes the very piece she had 
given to ’Tonio that morning. 

“ Why, Grandma ! ” gasped Dorothy. 

“ Yes dear, it ’s the very piece. Grandpa 
chanced to be passing ’Tonio’sashe came 
back from Drayton, and ’Tonio ran out 
and stopped him. He showed him this 
piece of money which you had given him 
this morning, he said, supposing it was a 
penny. ’Tonio thought it was, also, until 
he looked at it more closely and saw it 
was not American money at all, and 
thought there was some mistake. So you 
see, if it had not been for ’Tonio’s honesty 
grandpa would have lost his coin, and he 
values it'very highly, for it is a rare one. 
Grandpa told me about it when he came 
home, and he found he had left the little 
chest on his desk, instead of putting it 


The Little Black Chest. 


147 


back in his safe. So I was waiting to see 
what you would tell us about it.” 

Dorothy listened in new dismay. 

“ Oh, Grandma, then I ’m a worser girl 
than ever ! ” she wailed. 

“ No, darling, the fact that the coin was 
valuable does not make one bit of differ- 
ence in your naughtiness. It was just as 
naughty for you to take what you thought 
was a penny, as if you had known what 
the piece of money really was worth. 
The naughtiness was in opening the chest 
and taking anything out, much or little. 
Do you see?” 

“Ye-es,” said Dorothy, but rather 
doubtfully. It did not seem possible that 
it was just as naughty to take a penny as 
a larger sum of money. 

“Now what shall I do to make these 
little fingers remember?” asked grandma, 
taking one of Dorothy’s dimpled bits of 
hands in hers. 

“ I do fink they ’ll remember. Grandma ; 


148 


Dorothy Dot. 


but you could squeeze ’em in the lemon- 
squeezer if you want to. You can squeeze 
’em real hard, an’ I won’t even say ‘ ow ! ’ 
really ’n’ truly,” said Dorothy, earnestly. 

Grandma could not help laughing. 

“ I don’t think I ’ll squeeze them in the 
lemon-squeezer, for that would hurt me 
much more than it would you. On the 
whole, I think you will remember never 
to take the least thing that does n’t be- 
long to you, no matter how n;iuch you 
want it?” 

And Dorothy, much relieved, thought 
she would. 


CHAPTER XL 


Dorothy’s sacrifice. 

“T FINK,” said Dorothy, in strict con- 
1 fidence to Limpy, “that Aggernes 
is a very selfis’ little girl.” 

Limpy’s unblinking blue eyes stared 
straight back at Dorothy. 

“’Cause,” went on the little girl, taking 
silence for consent, “ when we play school 
she always wants to be the teacher, and I 
like to be teacher my own self.” 

Limpy’s stuffed head bobbed assent in 
response to Dorothy’s decided motions. 
Limpy was such a comfort. She never 
contradicted any one. 

“’N’ I know more about school than 
Aggernes does,” pursued Dot, “’cause 


ISO 


Dorothy Dot. 


I Ve been to the kinklegarten for free 
months an’ two years, an’ I ’ve been to 
the diskrit school here for ever ’n’ ever 
so long. ’Course I know how to play 
teacher. Aggernes does n’t. She ’s never 
been to school at all. She has the ’rif- 
metic class come right on top of the jog- 
erfy class, an’ everybody really ’n’ truly 
ought to write next. Don’t you fink so, 
Limpy ?” 

“School” was the children’s favorite 
amusement, and a queer assortment of 
scholars they had. Dorothy’s dolls made 
a goodly array, and besides this they had 
a large imaginary number. Dot’s quick 
ears caught up any word that sounded 
like a name, and she instantly took it for 
one of her scholars. Thus one of their 
favorite pupils was a certain “ Polly Gize,” 
a form of “ apologize,” and her brother, 
“ Johnnie Gize.” Another was Annie 
Mate. Another was a very funny one. 
Dorothy heard some gentlemen, talking to 


Dorothy’s Sacrifice. 15 1 

grandpa, use the words, “ Popish League.” 

“ That s one of my scholars,” whispered 
Dorothy instantly to grandma. “We al- 
ways call him ‘ Popy ’ for longs ” ; she 
meant “ for short,” of course. 

Agnes was spending the afternoon with 
Dorothy and had just run down-stairs for 
a drink of water, and it was then that 
Dorothy made her confidence to Limpy. 
Grandma, who was sitting sewing in the 
sunny hall outside the room where the 
children were playing, heard her, and 
sighed a little to think that she had noticed 
lately that her own little girl was get- 
ting selfish. 

Agnes returning just now, school was 
resumed. She was the teacher, and she 
put the play-spectacles, minus glasses, 
across her short nose. She rapped smartly 
on her desk. 

“ Minnie Sota, it s your class,” she said, 
reprovingly, looking over at Dot, who did 
not move. 


152 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ I want to be teacher now,” said Minnie 
Sota, otherwise Dorothy. “ You Ve been 
teacher ever so long, Aggernes. It s my 
turn now.” 

“You must n’t be bad, Minnie Sota,” 
said Agnes, rebukingly. “ ’Sides you were 
teacher last time. Come and recite your 
gerogerfy.” 

“ No,” said Dorothy, rebelliously. “ I 
want to be teacher.” 

“ P’raps you can next time,” temporized 
Agnes. 

“All the time?” asked Dorothy, con- 
sidering. • 

“ Let ’s play it ’s recess,” said Agnes, 
promptly changing the subject. “ You ’ve 
been such, a naughty girl that you must 
stay in. I ’ll take the dolls and go to 
walk,” and she caught up Limpy. 

“ Stop, Aggernes,” cried Dorothy, “ you 
shan’t take my Limpy by the neck. It 
hurts her.” 

“ Why, she can’t feel,” said Agnes, dis- 


Dorothy’s Sacrifice. 


153 


dainfully, packing her into the “ baby- 
buggy ” with the others. 

Dorothy swooped down to the rescue. 

“It does hurt her. I feel it hurt her,” 
she exclaimed, almost crying. “ You 
shan’t have my Limpy,” and she hugged 
her favorite child close. “ You can’t have 
any of them ! ” and Dorothy swept all she 
could of her family up into her arms. “You 
want everyfing, Aggernes. I fink I ’ll play 
school all by myself,” and she marched 
across the room with her dolls, drag- 
ging the baby-carriage after her. Agnes 
watched her in amazed silence. Dorothy 
propped her pupils in due order along 
the wall. 

“ Now, Polly Gize, sit up straight and 
don’t fall over on Popy. And don’t be a 
naughty, selfis’ little girl, and take all the 
room and everyfing, ’relse you ’ll have a 
terrible punishing. P’raps you can’t 
have any maple-sugar, an’ that would be 
terrible-er. Bime-by grandma will say. 


154 


Dorothy Dot. 


‘ Dorofy, want some maple-sugar ? ’ an’ 
I won’t let naughty little girls have any.” 

“ I think you ’re the selfishest girl,” 
sobbed Agnes, quite overcome at this 
picture. 

Just here grandma came to the rescue. 

“Well, little ones,” she said, coming in 
from the hall, “ so you ’re taking turns at 
playing teacher. That ’s right. Now, do 
you know that I smell something very 
good baking in the kitchen, and I think 
it’s gingersnaps. Who wants to come 
with me and find out ? Both of you ? ” and 
holding out a hand to each, grandma swept 
them both along with her to the kitchen, 
to be regaled on fresh gingersnaps. 

Then it was time for Agnes to go home. 

“ Can’t Dot come and see me to-mor- 
row ? ” begged Agnes, their disagreement 
all forgotten. 

“ To-morrow is Sunday,” said grandma ; 
“ but Dorothy shall come some other day 
next week.” 


Dorothy V Sacrifice. 


155 


As the next day chanced to be the last 
Sunday before Lent, of course Dorothy 
came home from Sunday-school with her 
little head full of her teacher s talk on the 
subject, though I ’m afraid her ideas were 
somewhat misty. Last year’s lessons were 
already dim in her six-year-old memory. 

Grandma overheard her talking to 
Limpy that night, and telling her all she 
meant to do. 

“We won’t eat any candy froo Lent, 
Limpy,” she said, for the two were always 
in partnership, “nor any cake nor per- 
servos nor sugar nor butter. We won’t 
eat any honey, either, ’cause I don’t like 
it very well. The he-ven can have all the 
fings we don’t eat, Limpy. I don’t b’lieve 
he-ven have much to eat, .most times.” 

Grandma called the little girl to her, 
and they both sat rocking in the big chair 
by the window, where they could see the 
sunset glowing in the west. Grandpa 
sat dozing by the fire. 


Dorothy Dot. 


156 

Dorothy loved this twilight hour, when 
she nestled in grandma’s loving arms, and 
heard wonderful stories of long ago, or 
of that enchanting time, “ when grand- 
ma was a little girl,” or when they just 
had cozy talks together. Grandma al- 
ways made things so plain. Now in 
simple words that Dorothy could under- 
stand, she talked to her about Lent and 
her Lenten sacrifices. How the Christ 
Child, whom they had welcomed at Christ- 
mas time, had come down to earth, 
because He loved all the world so well, 
and how He had laid down His life in 
that last wonderful sacrifice. 

“ So, to be like the Christ Child,” went on 
grandma gently, “ even little children must 
make sacrifices, must learn to give up their 
own way, and be unselfish and obliging — ” 

“ Aggernes is a very selfis’ little girl, I 
fink,” put in Dorothy, softly. 

“We won’t talk about Agnes, now, 
dear. We want to talk about your own 


Dorothy’s Sacrifice. 


157 


little self, and your own sacrifices. Why 
were you telling Limpy that you were 
going to give up all those things to eat, 
for a while ? ” 

“ ’Cause Miss Berfa said to,” answered 
Dorothy promptly. 

“ But why?” pursued grandma. 

“Why, I fink,” said Dorothy, consider- 
ing, “ so the he-ven can have ’em.” 

“ Do you think I send all the things 
you don’t eat to the heathen ?” 

“ Don’t you?” returned Dorothy, hon- 
estly surprised. “ I fought you did.” 

“ I was afraid you did, dear,” said grand- 
ma, stroking Dorothy’s soft, fluffy hair. 
“No, that would be impossible. If you 
give up some one thing on the table, 
butter, for instance, I will give you the 
worth of that in money ; then, you know, 
you have your candy money, also, to save 
for your Easter offering, and in that way 
the heathen may have the benefit of what 
you deny yourself.” 


Dorothy Dot. 


158 

“ I fought you sended off every day all 
I did n’t eat,” said Dorothy, “ so I was 
going to eat just a little teenty-bit, so 
there ’d be lots to send.” 

“ You need not give up but one thing 
on the table, besides your candy,” went 
on grandma ; “ for there are other sacrifices 
I want you to make.” 

“ Why, Grandma ! ” exclaimed Dorothy, 
raising her head. “ Could I have a big- 
ger saccerifice than going without candy ? ” 

“ Suppose I should ask you to give 
Limpy away.” 

“Give Limpy away?” cried startled 
Dorothy. “ I would n’t give Limpy away 
for twenty million fousand dollars.” 

“ I shan’t ask you to, pet ; but you see 
there are greater sacrifices than giving up 
candy.” 

“ Is doing what you don’t want to do, 
a saccerifice. Grandma ? ” asked Dorothy 
slowly, after a pause, while she absorbed 
this thought. 


Dorothy’s Sacrifice. 


159 


“ Yes, and letting other people do what 
you want to do is often a sacrifice. Tell 
me why you said, a little while ago, that 
Agnes is a selfish little girl. 

“ ’Cause she is selfish. Grandma. She 
likes to be teacher when we play school, 
and she wants all my dolls just when I 
want ’em, and she does choose the biggest 
cookie.” 

“ And why should n’t she do all that ?” 

“ ’Cause I ’ve been free months to the 
diskrit school ’n’ she has n’t, and I like to 
be teacher myself,” said Dorothy, getting 
excited. 

“ Quietly, darling. And you want the 
biggest cookie, and you want all the dolls, 
and you don’t want any one to touch your 
Limpy. Don’t you think, then, that you 
are just a little bit selfish yourself?” 

“ Am /selfis’ ?” — sitting up and looking 
much surprised. 

“If you think those things are self- 
ish in Agnes, are n’t they the same in 


i6o Dorothy Dot. 

you ? Was n’t it selfish to make Celia 
play ‘Indians’ outdoors on Thursday 
afternoon, when you know she loves to 
play dolls in the house? Wasn’t it self- 
ish of you and Algie to run off the other 
day, and leave poor Agnes all alone ? ” 

Dorothy’s face went deep down on 
grandma’s shoulder. 

“ Now, here is Lent coming, my pre- 
cious, and the best of all times to make a 
fresh beginning,” said grandma, kissing 
the scarlet cheek. “ Shall this be your 
Lenten sacrifice — trying to give up your 
own way to your little playmates ; being 
willing for Agnes to play teacher, when- 
ever she is your little guest? Will you 
play the games Celia likes and not always 
those that you like?” 

“ These are such hard saccerifices, 
Grandma,” came in a muffled voice. “ I ’d 
rawer just plain give up candy.” 

Just here grandpa on the other side 
of the fireplace rose to leave the room. 


Dorothy’s Sacrifice. i6i 

and as he went, he said to his wife with 
a smile : 


“To starve thy sin, 

Not bin, 

And that ’s to keep thy Lent.” 

“ What does grandpa mean ? ” asked 
Dorothy, after a pause, as grandma smiled 
but did not speak. 

“He meant that it is much more im- 
portant that you should make these hard 
sacrifices, darling, than that you should 
give up candy. Giving up things we like 
to eat, is only a symbol — a sign — we will 
try to give up our faults. If you give up 
sweets during Lent to earn money for 
your Easter offering, this will help teach 
you self-denial, and also remind you that 
you are trying to give up your own way 
also.” 

“ Must n’t I ever think what I want to 
do ? ” asked Dorothy, anxiously. 

“If you always think of what other 


i 62 


Dorothy Dot. 


people want to do, my pet, you will soon 
forget to think what want to do.” 

Dorothy heaved a mighty sigh, and 
after a long silence, she said : 

“Well, Grandma, I do fink I’ll always 
let Aggernes be teacher, an’ I ’ll let her 
hold my Limpy sometimes. But, Grand- 
ma,” sitting up, anxiously, “must I let her 
take my Limpy by the back of the neck ? 
’Cause it hurts her so.” 

Grandma smiled. 

“We will try to persuade Agnes to be 
careful how she lifts her. So this is what 
my little girl will do this Lent : think 
what her little playmates want, and not 
always what she wants herself.” 

“I fink,” said Dorothy, slowly, “that it 
will be a terrible-er saccerifice than giv- 
ing up candy. Grandma, but I solomon 
promise.” 



CHAPTER XII. 


THE FUNERAL OF A MOUSE. 

NE crisp, cold, winter morning, Celia 



came early to school, in order to 
have time to go the long way round, and 
stop for Dorothy, for she had a very im- 
portant message to deliver. It was noth- 
ing less than that Dorothy should go home 
from school with her that afternoon and 
stay all night, and all the next day, which 
was Saturday. 

Dorothy danced with joy at the idea, 
and skipped off to ask grandma. Grand- 
ma was quite willing, for two or three 
times in the course of the winter, the 
little cousins were allowed the excite- 
ment of spending the night together. 
Celia had been down to stay with Dorothy 


164 Dorothy Dot. 

for three whole days in Christmas week, 
and this was to be a return visit. Doro- 
thy liked to go over there very much, 
for Celia lived on a large farm, where 
there was no end of interesting and amus- 
ing things to do. Being a mile out of 
the village, it was right out in the country, 
and there was no other house in sight. 
It was too long a walk for Celia to go 
home at noon, so she always brought her 
luncheon, to Dorothy’s great envy. To- 
day, grandma completed Dorothy’s joy 
by giving her a little basket of luncheon 
also, and telling her she could stay and 
eat it with Celia at noon, and then they 
could both get excused at two o’clock to 
come home to make ready for the visit. 

It seemed a long day to both little girls, 
you may be sure, but reading and spelling 
and “jography” came to an end at last, 
and even two o’clock duly arrived, although 
to the excited children it seemed as if the 
slow, crawling hands of the clock never 


The Funeral of a Mouse. 


165 

would get round. They were promptly 
“ escused ” and ran back to grandma’s, 
hand in hand. Dorothy’s things were 
all ready waiting for her in a little bag. 
Grandma brushed her fluffy, black hair, 
and put on her new scarlet dress with its 
white yoke and sleeves. Then she but- 
toned up her long, dark green gaiters 
that came snugly over her knees, and 
that matched her long green coat with 
its three little beaver-trimmed capes. 
Next, Dorothy’s Eskimo hood of the 
same dark green cloth, with its warm 
edging of beaver fur, went on, and the 
little girl was ready. 

It was a cold, clear, winter day. The 
snow lay on the ground white and spark- 
ling, and the sleigh-runners crunched 
crisply as they flew past them. “That 
is a sign of cold weather,” Celia said, 
wisely. Country children soon become 
learned in weather-lore. So they raced 
gaily along, hand in hand, slipping now 


I 


Dorothy Dot. 


1 66 

and then on the smooth track, and tum- 
bling into the powdery snow, plunging into 
drifts at the warning of the bells behind 
them, and now and then giving each 
other a sly little push into deeper snow, 
shrieking all the time with fun and 
laughter. 

Presently Celia’s sharp eyes espied a 
tiny dark object on the road before them. 
The children pounced upon it. 

“ Oh, it ’s a dear little dead mouse ! ” 
they both cried out. Celia swung it up 
by its tail. 

“ P’r’aps it ain’t dead,” she said, examin- 
ing it closely. “ P’r’aps it ’s only frozen 
up. Le’ ’s take it home. Dot, to play 
with.” 

Dorothy thought this was a grand idea. 

“ Where shall we carry him ? Oh, let ’s 
put him in your shoe,” she said. 

This was not so queer as it sounds. 
Celia had a pair of rubber boots on, inside 
of which she wore soft felt slippers. Her 


The Funeral of a Mouse. 167 

shoes, tied together by their lacings, were 
swinging over her arm. 

So they tucked the little stiff mouse 
into the toe of the shoe very carefully. A 
large load of hay, on its way to the station 
to be shipped, was not far ahead of them, 
and it is very probable poor Master 
Mousie had been shaken from his snug 
nest in it. 

The mile seemed a short one to the 
merry children, but Dorothy was glad to 
see the familiar red barns come in sight. 
She was always delighted with the queer 
old farm-house, with its low, rambling 
rooms, which had great beams across the 
ceiling. There were funny little passages 
and halls, leading to rooms that were 
always up, or down, two or three steps. 

The children went in at the back door 
as usual, and into the great sunny kitchen, 
to warm themselves by the roaring wood- 
fire. Nelson was there doing some scroll- 
work with his saw. When they were 


Dorothy Dot. 


1 68 

warmed they took off their things in the 
hall, and rushed off to Celia’s room to 
play. Celia still had her shoes in her 
hand, and as she threw them down, she 
remembered the mouse. 

Master Mouse was still there, stiff and 
cold, and apparently lifeless. 

“Oh, let’s have a frinyal!” suggested 
Dorothy. “We can use the doll-car- 
riage for a hearse, and the dolls can be 
mourners.” 

“ So we can,” assented Celia, promptly. 
“ And we’ll have a sermon too. Do you 
want to be minister?” 

“ I don’t care much. You can if you 
want to,” said Dorothy, generously. The 
two little girls rarely disagreed on any 
point, for each was generally willing that 
the other should have the best of every- 
thing. For this reason, peace always 
reigned between them. 

“No, you be minister,” said Celia. 
“You can preach a better sermon than I 


The Funeral of a Mouse. 169 

can. I ’ll be mourner with the dolls. 
We’ll keep coming in, crying.” 

Dorothy had never been to a “ frinyal ” in 
her life, and had no idea of what they were. 
But Celia had often been, and knew all 
about it ; so she was mistress of ceremonies. 

They laid the little dead mouse in state 
in a little cushion on the cart, and the 
ceremony proceeded. The mouse was 
taken to the play-church, and the services 
conducted very solemnly, while Celia 
cried loudly, assisted — in appearance — by 
a goodly array of dolls. When all this 
came to an end, they did not know exactly 
what to do with the remains, to imitate 
burying, so Celia suggested that they put 
him in the doll’s bed, for the present, and 
cover him up warmly. 

Accordingly, they made a comfortable 
little nest for Master Mousie in the little 
bed, and drew up the clothes and tucked 
him in snugly. Then they ran away to 
play something else. 


Dorothy Dot. 


1 70 

As usual they had a beautiful time. 
Nelson, who had been confined to the 
house with a cold long enough to wel- 
come anything in the way of diversion, 
was very willing to play with them, 
though generally he rather scorned girls 
games. So they played ten-pins in the 
long hall ; they slid down the banisters ; 
they played bean-bags and tag ; they 
cracked hickory-nuts, and ate apples, until 
at five o’clock Aunt Emma called them 
to supper. She was not really Dorothy’s 
aunt at all, for Mr. Abbott, Celia’s father, 
was only a second cousin of Dorothy’s 
father, though Dorothy always called him 
“Uncle Nat.” Dorothy liked “Aunt 
Emma ” pretty well, for she was always 
kind to the little girl, but secretly she felt 
rather afraid of her. Aunt Emma was a 
busy, bustling woman, nervous and excit- 
able, always flying around quickly, and 
very much afraid of a speck of dirt on her 
spotless floors and curtains. 


The Funeral of a Mouse. 171 

The abundant farm-house supper and 
the large family always delighted Dorothy. 
The long table was spread . in the big, 
shining kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Abbott sat 
opposite each other in the middle of the 
table. The two “ hired men ” and the 
“ hired girl ” — no one ever called her a 
servant — sat in country-fashion on one 
side of Mr. and Mrs. Abbott, and the 
family, Celia and Nelson, with their grown- 
up sister, Mary Frances, and Dorothy sat 
on the other side. The table was hospit- 
ably loaded. There were great plates of 
rye-bread, a dish of cold boiled cabbage, 
which Uncle Nat and the men liked, 
quantities of “warmed-over potatoes,” 
fried just short of browning, as they 
liked them ; thin, crispy, fried pork, cold 
corned beef, baked apples, and dishes of 
strawberry preserve, put on for Dorothy 
and Celia. There was a heaped-up dish 
of gingerbread and a plate of “farmer’s 
fruit-cake ” — also in honor of Dorothy, who 


Dorothy Dot. 


1 72 

was company — but which was largely com- 
pounded of apples by way of fruit. Pitch- 
ers of milk with the yellow cream already 
rising, and hot, weak tea completed the 
meal. 

After supper, Huldah, the “hired girl,” 
with the aid of Mary Frances, Celia’s 
sister, cleared off the table and “ did ” the 
dishes, while the children popped corn, 
and were even allowed to make molasses- 
candy. 

Suddenly in the midst of the fun, Doro- 
thy exclaimed : 

“ Oh, Celia ! I wonder how our mouse 
is getting on.” 

Mrs. Abbott pricked up her ears. 

“Mouse!” she cried sharply, “what 
mouse?” Mrs. Abbott had a very high, 
shrill voice, that always made Dorothy 
jump if it came unexpectedly, and now 
it was pitched on a higher key than ever. 
The very word mouse was like waving a red 
rag before a turkey-gobbler, it happened. 


The Funeral of a Mouse. 173 

and all her life she had waged war to the 
knife with the whole tribe. With cats, 
traps, and poisons she had fought them 
constantly, until now no mouse with an 
atom of regard for his prolonged existence 
dared venture within gunshot. 

• “We found a little mouse, as we were 
coming home from school, Celia and I,” 
explained Dorothy, unconscious of the 
horror in Mrs. Abbott’s face, “and we 
brought it home, and we had a frinyal, 
and put it in dollie’s bed, ’cause we did n’t 
know where else to bury it. Besides, we 
did n’t know, for sure, if it was dead, 
and ” 

“Celia Abbott!” broke in her mother, 
in tones as tragic as their high key would 
permit, “do you mean to tell me you 
have actually brought a mouse, dead or 
alive, into my house?” 

“Yes ’m,” faltered Celia, frightened at 
the enormity of her crime. “ I forgot — 
I guess it ’s dead. Mother, for it ’s all stiff.” 


174 


Dorothy Dot. 


“We put it in dollies bed,” repeated 
Dorothy. “ P’raps it ’s warmed up by this 
time.” 

“ Warmed up ! ” screamed Mrs. Abbott, 
much excited. “ And it will come to life, 
and run around my house, and bring more 
mice here, just when I had rooted ’em 
out, tooth and nail. Nelson, bring a light. 
Girls, get brooms. Children, take the 
tongs and shovel. Come right along, and 
p’raps we ’ll catch it if we ’re real spry.” 

Mrs. Abbott marshalled her army, in 
a trice, with the resource and energy of 
a born commander. 

Nelson lighted a candle ; Huldah and 
Mary Frances grasped broomsticks val- 
iantly ; Dorothy — half frightened by the 
excitement, and half inclined to think it 
was all great fun — seized the tongs, as big 
as herself. Celia took the shovel, while 
Mrs. Abbott led the van, armed with a 
big brass warming-pan. 

The clasp was off, and the cover clanged 


The Funeral of a Mouse. 


175 


resonantly, as she mounted the stairs in 
double-quick time. 

Once in Celia’s room, Mrs. Abbott 
quickly planned the campaign. 

“Stand there by the fireplace, Huldy, 
so he won’t run up chimney. You keep 
him out of the closet, Celia, with the 
shovel. Ma’y Frances, don’t you let him 
slip under that crack into the hall, if you 
value your sleep this night. Dorothy, 
you and Nelson kind of skirmish round 
the bed. Pull up the valance, Huldy, 
and tuck it in. Now, Ma’y Frances, you 
take the warming-pan and clatter the 
cover, and give Nelson your broom. 
Now, Nelson, you just stand here, ready 
to slam that broom down — ker-whack, 
when I lift up these bed-clothes, an’ if he ’s 
alive, we’ll teach him a lesson.” And by 
the fire in Mrs. Abbott’s eye there was 
no doubt whatever that she would. 

“ Stop,” she said, at the critical mo- 
ment, with her hand on the little bed- 


Dorothy Dot. 


1 76 

clothes. “ I must have something to 
bang with, too. Give me that rubber 
boot, Huldy. Steady now. Nelson.” 

Very cautiously she pulled down the 
clothes, with Nelson near with uplifted 
broom, ready to strike ; while the rear- 
guard stood, breathless with excitement. 

They had assisted at many a mouse- 
fight before, and knew their respective 
parts right well. 

“We put him in about the middle,” 
volunteered Dorothy, eagerly. Luckless 
information ! Mrs. Abbott glanced round. 
There was a tiny squeal, a little scurry, 
and Master Mousie, warmed and vigorous, 
shot like a little black meteor straight up 
Mrs. Abbott’s arm, and sprang from her 
shoulder to the floor. 

Oh, the wild charge they made ! Mary 
Frances clanged her cover, as she made 
wild hits at the floor ; she was guarding 
the hall door, under which there were 
cracks quite large enough to let an army 


The Funeral of a Mouse. 177 

of mice go out. Celia danced excitedly 
in front of the closet. Dorothy, in mortal 
terror, scrambled wildly on to the bed, and 
huddled there in ignominious safety, peer- 
ing over the edge. 

Round and round the room rushed Mrs. 
Abbott and Nelson, as free-lances, whack- 
ing and banging at every spot, indiscrimi- 
nately. Round and round scrambled 
mousie, uttering sharp squeals of terror, 
escaping blows of shovel, tongs, and warm- 
ing-pan, by the skin of his tail. The room 
being large and bare, there was little 
place for him to hide, and from the little 
he discovered, he was promptly dislodged. 

But the struggle was too unequal to 
last. Five great giants, armed with hor- 
rid, clanking weapons, all were charging 
on one poor, defenceless little mouse, 
lately waked from sleep, dazed, bewildered, 
and frightened. In one luckless moment, 
in dodging the Scylla of the warming-pan, 
he plunged straight into the Charybdis 


178 


Dorothy Dot. 


of the broom, and poor Master Mousie’s 
earthly career was ended. 

Mrs. Abbott, flushed but exultant, 
heaved a mighty sigh as she surveyed the 
dead and wounded on the field of battle. 
Mousie represented the dead, and the 
various members of her force, the wounded. 
Celia was hopping on one foot, having re- 
ceived a stinging whack from the warming- 
pan on the other. Mary Frances was on 
her hands and knees searching for lost 
hairpins. Nelson sucked a lame finger, 
that had been squeezed in Dorothy’s tongs 
when he recklessly seized them. Huldah 
patted a pair of barked knees, caused by 
falling over Celia’s shovel. Even the 
General herself was somewhat untidy as 
to the false front she wore over her scanty 
gray hair. 

“We’ve killed him!” she announced, 
with breathless triumph ; and all the bat- 
tered army gathered around the fallen foe 
— two inches of helpless mouse-hood, not 


The Funeral of a Mouse. 


179 


including the tail. Even Dorothy sum- 
moned courage to approach. She did not 
fear him now that he was cold and stiff 
again. 

“ Now we ’ll have a real frinyal,” she 
remarked, with much satisfaction. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


AGNES’s LITTLE SISTER. 

NE morning Agnes flew over to see 



Dorothy in such a great state of 
excitement that she could hardly speak. 

“Oh, Dot! Dot!” she cried, breath- 
lessly. “ Come over to my house, quick. 
I Ve got a little sister, and it ’s alive, and 
it has teenty little toes and real eyes, and 


i8o 


Agnes’s Little Sister. i8i 

it squeals when it cries. Come right over 
and see it.” 

“ A real live sister, Aggernes ! Oh, where 
did you get it ? ” 

“ Papa got it somewhere, I don’t know 
where. I went to grandma’s yesterday to 
spend the day, and when I got home there 
it was. Papa brought me a big doll too, 
but I ’d lots rather have the baby.” 

“Yes, a really-truly baby is awfully 
nice,” said Dorothy. 

Here grandma came in, and the great 
news had to be told to her. 

“Isn’t that lovely!” said grandma, cor- 
dially. “Yes, we will go over and see 
the baby to-morrow. What good times 
you will have with it as it grows a little 
larger 1 ” 

“Won’t we have fun ! When can she 
talk, do you ’xpect? I wish she could 
walk 1 ” 

“ She ’s so little and helpless, that it will 
be about a year before she can stand all ' 


82 


Dorothy Dot. 


by herself,” said grandma ; “ but in two 
or three months she will be very cunning 
and playful.” 

“ I want her to be large right away 
now,” said Agnes, skipping about. “ Can’t 
Dot come over and see her this to-day 
afternoon?” - 

“Not to-day, I think, but to-morrow 
we ’ll come, perhaps. I ’d like to see the 
dear new baby. What does mamma 
think of it ?” 

“Oh, mamma’s got an awfully bad 
headache, and she can’t sit up to-day at all. 
I don’t believe she ’s hardly seen the baby. 
We’ve got a new girl to take care of it.” 

“ Whom does the baby look like ? ” asked 
grandma. “ Does it look like you or 
mamma or papa?” 

“It’s so awful little,” said Agnes, with 
some scorn, “ it don’t look like any of us. 
It ’s all wrinkled up. It has n’t any frinkles 
like me.” 

Agnes was very light, and her fair skin 


Agnes’s Little Sister. 183 

had fine, light brown freckles across her 
little short nose — or, as she called them 
“ frinkles.” 

“ The baby ’s awful red, too. Will it 
ever come off ?” 

“Yes, indeed,” said grandma, consol- 
ingly. “ By and by she ’ll be as white as 
you are.” 

“I hope we’ll look just together when 
she grows up,” said Agnes, meaning, just 
alike. “ Don’t you know those two little 
twin girls that come to church. Dot?” 

“Yes, they always have fevvers in their 
hats just alike, don’t they? And Sarah 
said they ’d have to have the measles bof 
at the same time.” 

“ An’ they look just 'xactly together,” 
chimed in Agnes. “ Baby and I will have 
dresses just alike when she ’s six years old.” 

“ But you are six years older than the 
baby,” said grandma, laughing ; “so when 
she ’s six, you ’ll be twelve. I ’m afraid 
you won’t ever look just exactly together.” 


184 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ Why, so we won’t,” said Agnes, disap- 
pointedly. “ I wish I could stop myself 
growing till she gets big.” 

“ What ’s her name, Aggernes ? ” asked 
Dorothy, looking very wistful. Oh, if she 
only had a little baby-sister ! 

“ She did n’t have any name when papa 
bought her, he said, but he says we ought 
to call her Grace, for mamma. Martha 
said she wished we’d call her Penina. She 
has a sister Penina, and she thinks it ’s a 
real pretty name.” 

Grandma laughed. “ Grace is prettier. 
I hope they will call her that.” 

“ I ’m going to call her Pansy Violet, for 
shorts,” said Agnes. “ I love Pansy Violet. 
Don’t you. Dot ? ” 

“Yes, an’ I fink Limpy is a very sweet 
name,” said Dorothy, hugging her pet 
daughter very tightly. “ But I don’t 
b’lieve I ’d like to have any one else named 
Limpy, escept my Limpy,” she added 
softly. 


Agnes’s Little Sister. 185 

“ I ’m afraid baby will miss me,” said 
Agnes, importantly, “ and I guess I ’ll have 
to go now. Please be sure and come over 
to-morrow. Dot.” 

Dorothy sat in a corner after Agnes 
had gone, looking very melancholy. A 
baby-sister of one’s very own must be a 
very delightful thing. A live baby that 
would open and shut its eyes whenever 
you told it to, and not only when you laid 
it flat on its back, like her “shut-eye” 
dolly. Limpy was the dearest thing, and 
the greatest comfort that ever was — here 
Dorothy gave her an extra squeeze — still 
a really-truly baby could talk. 

“ But I espect babies cry lots,” she said 
philosophically to herself, after a while. 
“ And Limpy never cries. She does n’t 
mind when I go away and leave her — at 
least, she does n’t say anyfing ’bout it. 
Do you, you darling old Limpy, you ?” 

The next day Dorothy set off with 
grandma to see the new arrival. Algie 


i86 


Dorothy Dot. 


was playing in the front yard as they 
passed. 

“ H’lo,” he called, running down to 
meet them. “ Where you going ? ” 

“We’re going to see Aggernes’s little 
new sister,” said Dorothy, eagerly. “ Oh, 
Grandma, may n’t Algie come too ? I 
know he ’ll be very good, won’t you, 
Algie?” 

“ Guess I will ! Can I go ? ” looking 
up appealingly at Mrs. Hillard. “ I ’d 
like to see it awfully.” 

“ Yes, you can come with us,” said Mrs. 
Hillard, readily. “ Run and ask nurse, 
and get your face and hands washed, and 
we ’ll wait for you here.” 

Algie skipped off, and presently came 
running back with a very shiny face and 
dripping wet hair, carefully plastered down 
in front, but very rough and tumbled on 
the top and back. He had his hat in his 
hand. 

“ I could n’t find nurse,” he explained. 


Agnes’s Little Sister. 


187 


“so I just washed my face and hands my- 
self, and I gave my hair a slick. Nurse 
says she always likes to give my hair a 
slick when I ’m going anywhere. Need I 
put my hat on ? I don’t want to muss it.” 

Grandma took her handkerchief and 
wiped off the drops of water that were 
still running down from Algie’s carefully 
“slicked” hair. 

“ Now put on your "hat, my little man, 
and it will be all right.” 

The children walked along hand-in- 
hand, chattering eagerly. 

“ I ’m so glad Aggernes has a little sis- 
ter,” Dorothy said. 

“ Where did she get it from ? ” Algie 
asked. 

“ Her papa bought it the other night. 
He bought her a doll too, but she likes 
her sister best.” 

“ I should think she would,” returned 
Algie, with some scorn. “ Is it a big 
one?” 


i88 


Dorothy Dot. 


“No, a little teenty one, Aggernes said. 
I did n’t see it yet.” 

“ How does it go ?” asked Algie, with 
further interest. 

“ It does n’t go at all yet, for it ’s too 
little,” explained Dorothy. 

“Can they make it bigger?” asked 
Algie, in much surprise. 

“ It gets bigger all by itself,” said 
Dorothy, and then they arrived at Agnes’s 
house. 

Agnes came flying down to meet them, 
as Martha opened the door. 

“The children were so anxious to see 
the baby that I brought them round,” 
grandma said, in her pleasant way. “ How 
is Mrs. Blake?” 

“ Mamma ’s got her headache yet,” said 
Agnes, “ and she is n’t up, but you can 
see the baby. Mamma likes it very much, 
though, and she has it stay in with her 
most all the time.” 

“ Will you ask the nurse if we can see 


Agnes’s Little Sister. 189 

the baby?” Mrs. Hillard asked Martha, 
and Martha took them up to Agnes’s nur- 
sery. It was just across the hall from 
Mrs. Blake’s room, and the new nurse was 
just coming out of her door. 

“They want to see the baby,” said 
Agnes, in a loud whisper, on account of 
poor mamma’s head. “ Can you bring 
the baby out, Mrs. More?” 

“ It s a fine baby,” said Mrs. More, 
smiling at Mrs. Hillard, whom she knew ; 
“as fine a baby as ever I see. Weighs 
eleven pounds. Fat as a little pig. Yes, 
dearie, I ’ll bring it out.” 

. Mrs. More stepped back into the room 
softly, and brought out on a pillow, a lit- 
tle bundle of flannel. She sat down near 
the nursery fire, and gently raised the 
blue folds so that the children could see 
the tiny red face with its tightly shut eyes 
and dot of a nose, and such a wee button- 
hole of a mouth. 

“ Is that a baby ? ” questioned Dorothy, 


190 


Dorothy Dot. 


in blank surprise. She had scarcely ever 
seen any babies at all, and the few she 
had seen had been lively, active little 
things of six months or a year, who 
could sit up and laugh and play. She 
could hardly believe her eyes. As for 
Algie, he paid no attention whatever to 
the baby, but went poking about the 
room on some quest of his own. Doro- 
thy expected grandma to express her sur- 
prise at the baby’s smallness. Instead of 
that she said, with much interest : 

“ That is a fine, big baby. What a 
head of hair ! A nice, healthy little thing, 
too.” 

“ ’ Deed it is, ma’am,” said the nurse, 
proudly. “It sleeps like a little top. 
Does n’t you, you little weesy-cheesy ? ” 

“ Make it open its eyes, nurse, please ! ” 
begged Agnes. “ Sit it up, and see if 
they won’t fly up.” 

“ Bless the child ! the baby ’s not a doll,” 
laughed nurse. “It opens its peepers 


Agnes’s Little Sister. 191 

just when it likes, does n’t it, popsy- 
wopsy ?” 

Just then popsy-wopsy accommodatingly 
did open its eyes for a moment, and blinked. 

“ Why, it sees me,” shrieked Dorothy, 
in delight. “ She looked straight at me 
and winked. And oh I what cunning lit- 
tle hands ! ” as nurse lifted one of the new 
baby’s wee hands. 

“ And it ’s got little finger-nails, really- 
truly finger-nails,” she added, in amaze- 
ment, beginning to think the baby was 
wonderful after all. 

“It’s got toe-nails too,” said Agnes, 
proudly. “ Hasn’t it, nurse? Can’t we 
see ’em ? ” and nurse good-naturedly lifted 
up the blue flannel folds, till away up in- 
side somewhere, she brought to view the 
dearest, tiniest little toes on the cunning- 
est little feet, with velvety pink soles, all 
at the ends of little curled-up legs. 

“ It ’s finished off all over,” cried Doro- 
thy, in ecstasy. “ It ’s got real little knees, 


192 


Dorothy Dot. 


too.” She wanted to pat them and hold 
them, and was much disappointed when 
nurse after a moment drew down the flannel 
skirts again, lest the wee things should get 
cold. 

“ Grandma,” Dorothy said earnestly, 
“ could nt you get me some real little feet 
for Limpy? If she only had curly little 
feet like this baby, she ’d be most as good 
as a real one. Could n’t you. Grandma?” 

“You’ll have to come over and play 
with this baby real often when it gets 
bigger,” nurse said, good-naturedly ; “ and 
you too, little boy,” for Algie now drew 
nearer, and stood leaning against grandma, 
looking very much disappointed. 

“ What ’s the matter, little man ? ” said 
grandma, putting her arm around him.. 
“ Is n’t this a dear little baby ? ” But Algie 
only looked at it out of the corner of his 
eye, and would say nothing. 

“ Now we must go,” said grandma, ris- 
ing. “ Give my love to Mrs. Blake, and 


Agnes’s Little Sister. 


193 


let me know if there is anything she es- 
pecially fancies to eat, at any time. Things 
from outside often taste so much better 
than home things.” 

“ Send her some malange, Grandma,” 
whispered Dorothy, pulling grandma’s 
sleeve. “ That ’s so good. Chocolate 
malange is the nicest thing ever was.” 

“Yes, we ’ll send Mrs. Blake some 
chocolate blanc-mange by and by, if she 
would like it,” said Mrs. Hillard, smiling 
at nurse, “and anything else she fancies. 
Now, chickens, say good-bye to the baby. 
Kiss it very gently if you want to, 
Dorothy, right on its cheek. Is n’t it 
soft? You too, Algie ? No? Well, then, 
we will go.” 

On the way home Algie was very silent. 
Suddenly he broke into the midst of Dor- 
othy’s chatter, very reproachfully. 

“ You told me Agnes had a little pump, 
an’ I looked all around for it, and I could 
n’t find it anywhere.” 


194 Dorothy Dot. 

“ Why, no I did n’t,” said Dorothy, much 
surprised. 

“Yes you did,” insisted Algie; “an’ I 
wanted to see it awfully. You said her 
papa brought it.” 

“ I did 71 i, did I, Grandma? I only just 
esactly said that Aggernes had a little sister 
and that ’s all she got new, escepting only 
just a doll that her papa bought at the 
same place where he got the baby.” 

“ That ’s what I said you said,” returned 
Algie, looking injured. “ You said Agnes 
had a little cistern.” 

Grandma burst out laughing. 

“ Oh, you funny children ! Algie, Doro- 
thy said that Agnes had a little sister, and 
that little sister was the new baby we saw. 
You thought she said cistern, and that ’s 
what you meant by a pump. Poor child ! 
I thought you looked disappointed.” 

Algie looked disgusted. The word sis- 
ter had meant nothing to him, as he had 
neither brothers nor sisters, and had never 


Agnes’s Little Sister. 


195 


been with other children. It sounded just 
like cistern to him, and he had thought he 
was going to see a play-pump of some kind. 
The baby would have been no attraction. 

But it proved a very great attraction to 
the two little girls, and a never-ending de- 
light. As it grew week by week, they 
thought nothing could be cunninger or 
dearer than this lovely baby, so much better 
than any doll — “ escept Limpy,” Dorothy 
always said, loyally. The baby was named 
Grace, but the children always persisted in 
calling it “ Pansy Violet” for “shorts.” 




CHAPTER XIV. 


PLAYING SCHOOL. 

D orothy and Algie had set up a 
post-office in the fence that divided 
their two yards. Many were the odd 
scraps of notes that found their way into 
it. It was made of a cigar-box with a slit 
in the cover, and grandpa had nailed it 
firmly to the top of the fence. It was 
much more fun, you know, to write a note 
and drop it in the box, and then run away, 
and call to the other over the fence that 
a letter had been mailed, than to deliver 
the message by word of mouth. As Doro- 
thy and Algie had only lately learned to 
write, however, oftentimes the letters had 
to be brought back to the little writers to 
be explained. If they chanced to forget 
in the meantime what it was about, as of- 


197 


198 Dorothy Dot. 

ten happened, then the letter would have 
to go unread. 

One Saturday morning Dorothy sat at 
grandma’s writing-desk, where she had 
permission to be, on condition of her being 
very careful not to spill the ink, which she 
was allowed to use as a special favor. It 
was red ink, too, which grandma used in 
her housekeeping account-books, for Doro- 
thy greatly admired this. She had her 
box of tiny note-paper which grandpa had 
bought for her when she proudly brought 
home her first copy-book from school. 
She used it to write her own funny little 
letters on to her mother. 

However, she was not writing to her 
mother now. Celia and Agnes were com- 
ing to spend the afternoon with her, and 
she was writing to ask Algie to come 
also. 

This was the letter : 

“ my dear alger i love you verry much 
granma sed I may right with red ink 


Playing School. 


199 


becouse i want to right nice i hope wele 
have lots of fun to-day and granma sed 
you can come over and selia is comming 
too and wele dress up in granmas dreses 
it is a very nice day 

your 

loveing frend 
Dorothy 
dot hillard 

satterdy ” 

Having completed this letter with a 
great deal of pains and much running to 
grandma to spell words she thought she 
did n’t know, she folded the paper very 
small, and put it into a little envelope 
which she began to direct very carefully. 

“ mr alger,” she wrote, then she had 
forgotten how to spell Otis. 

“ Ot-is,” she thought, and then she 
called out : 

“ Grandma, how do you spell oat? ” 

“ O-a-t, dear,” answered grandma. 

So Dorothy finished her direction : 


200 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ mr alger oatis.” 

She stuck down the flap very carefully, 
and ran away to put her letter in the post- 
office. Having slipped it through the 
slit in the cover, she climbed upon the 
board fence to look over it, calling, “Al- 
gie ! Algie ! ” 

Algie came running out of the house. 

“ There ’s a letter for you in the box,” 
she said. “ I wrote it to devite you to 
come and see me this afternoon and play 
dressing up and everyfing. Can you 
come ?” 

“ You bet ! ” returned Algie, hurrying to 
get his invitation, while Dorothy jumped 
down and ran into the house to prepare for 
her party. 

“ Dressing up ” was always a favorite 
amusement, and nothing was more de- 
lightful than to have grandma lay out a 
lot of old dresses and things in Dorothy's 
room for them to dress up in. 

Celia was the first arrival after dinner. 


Playing School. 


201 


Although she was nearly two years older 
than the other children, she made a capital 
playmate for them. She was a very gen- 
tle, unselfish little girl. There was rarely 
a word of quarrelling where Celia was, for 
she was so ready to give up her way, that 
the other "children usually did the same. 
She would look so anxious and unhappy 
when Algie flew into one of his rages, that 
he would sometimes stop in the beginning 
of one. These temper-fits of Algie’s, 
however, were certainly growing less fre- 
quent as the months went by, for his 
constant playing with gentle, well-man- 
nered children had been a great blessing 
to him. 

Soon after Celia came, Algie himself 
appeared, with a little note, carefully 
twisted up, in his hand. 

“ I was afraid you might not think to 
go to the post-office again,” he explained 
to Dorothy ; “ so I brought my letter over 
to tell you I would come.” 


202 


Dorothy Dot. 


“ Fank you for bringing it,” said Doro- 
thy, taking the letter and opening it. “ I 
did n’t go to the post-office again, and I 
should n’t have known you were coming.” 
She spelled out the letter carefully with 
Celia’s help. 

Here is Algie’s letter: 

“my dear dot i think you are the nisest 
girl i no. and ile come to your party i cant 
right with red ink couse we havvent enny 
your loving fellow 

algie ” 

“ I ’m very glad you can come,” said 
Dorothy, hospitably, “an’ I see Aggernes 
coming now.” 

They all trooped to the door to wel- 
come Agnes, and then Dorothy led them 
off to her room, where grandma had laid 
out on the bed some old skirts and waists 
and odd bonnets and hats and shawls. 
Celia was always the mother when they 
played house, for she was the oldest. 


Playing School. 


203 


Dorothy was generally her little girl, and 
Agnes was an old lady who came to call. 
Sometimes Algie dressed up like another 
old lady, and sometimes he was a doctor, 
or an engineer when they wished to take 
an imaginary journey, or an Indian charg- 
ing down on them with a tomahawk. 

“ Let s play school,” said Celia at last, 
when they had gone through many ad- 
ventures and much excitement. 

“ Oh, yes, let’ s,” cried Dorothy, “ an’ 
let me be teacher,” she began. Then she 
suddenly stopped and looked at Agnes, 
remembering the last time they had played 
school. 

“ You can be teacher, Aggernes,” she 
said, quickly. 

“No, I want to,” said Algie. 

“I’m going to be teacher myself, for 
Dot says I may,” returned Agnes, firmly. 

“ Let ’s have Celia for teacher,” inter- 
posed Dorothy, “ ’cause she ’s so bigger. 
We ’ll be the scholars, Aggernes. You 


204 Dorothy Dot 

be the minister, Algie, and come and visit 
the school.” 

This settled the matter, satisfactorily. 
Celia, with a cap of grandma’s on her 
head, and a pair of glassless spectacles 
mounted across her small nose, sat down 
by the table for a desk. Dorothy and 
Agnes arranged stools and chairs for their 
desks, while Algie went out into to the 
hall to get ready to come in as the minis- 
ter, visiting the school. 

“The spelling-class may come up,” said 
Celia, in a high, squeaky voice ; and the 
spelling-class arose and filed down the 
room, to stand giggling before the desk. 

“ I can ’t have so much laughing, chil- 
dren,” said the teacher, severely. “ You 
can spell — what’s your name?” she broke 
of, pointing at Agnes. 

“ I ’ll be Polly Gize to-day,” said Agnes, 
“ You be Minnie Sota, Dot.” 

“ No,” said Dorothy, “ I ’m going to be 
New Josey.” 


Playing School. 205 

“ New w/ia^ ? ” asked the teacher, look- 
ing puzzled. 

“ New Josey. Don 't you know Mr. 
Jacops told us about New Josey yesterday 
in the jogeriffy class ?” 

“ Seems to me it does n’t sound quite 
right,” said Celia, considering. “ Never 
mind, though ; New Josey is a very 
nice name. Polly Gize, you may spell 
cat.” 

“ K-a-t,” giggled Agnes. 

“ Wrong. Spell it. New Josey.” 

“ C-a-t. Now I ’m going above you, 
Aggernes.” 

“ No, you must n’t. I really knew how 
to spell cat, I should think ! I was only 
pretending.” 

“ Yes, of course,” said the teacher, 
soothingly ; “ but it’s more fun to go up 
and down. New Josey, you can spell 
cow.” 

“That’s very hard,” said New Josey. 
Let me have just one good hard fink!' 


2 o 6 Dorothy Dot. 

She covered her eyes with her hand — 
“C-r-o.” 

“No, that’s wrong. Polly Gize you 
may spell it. Y es, that ’s right. Y ou may 
go up, Polly.” 

Here Algie, thinking it was time he 
joined in, knocked at the door. 

“ Go and see who ’s knocking. New 
Josey,” said the teacher. “ I think we 
have company coming.” 

“ It ’s the minister,” announced New 
Josey, throwing open the door. “ Come 
in, Mr. Minister.” 

The teacher got up and made a low 
bow. 

“ Glad to see you, sir,” she said, trying 
not to laugh ; for Algie looked so funny 
in grandpa’s old silk hat and a long fur 
coat of grandma’s. “Won’t you sit down 
and take off your things and stay awhile ?” 

“ Guess I will, thank you, ma’am,” said 
Mr. Minister, gravely. “ This hat is too 
fat for me, and it comes down over my 


Playing School. 


207 


eyes.” He accordingly put his hat on the 
floor and sat down on the bed, the chairs 
being all occupied. 

“We are just going to have a class in 
jography,” went on the teacher, who, by 
the way, was always called Miss Figgler, 
though why, nobody knew. “ F'irst class 
in jography come up.” 

The first class presented themselves. 

“ New Josey, you can be head this 
time. What is the capital of North Amer- 
ica ? ” 

“ Boston,” said New Josey, promptly. 

“That ’s right — at least I think it is,” 
said the teacher, glancing anxiously at the 
minister, who nodded, as much as to say, 
“ Everybody knows that.” 

“ Polly Gize, what — let me see. What 
are coral islands made of?” 

“ Bugs,” returned Polly Gize, quickly. 
“ I know all about ’em, ’cause mamma 
’xplained it to me only last night. They 
get all hard and stuck together, just mil- 


2o8 


Dorothy Dot. 


lions and billions and dillions of ’em. I Ve 
got a coral necklace made out of ’em.” 

“ Have you ? Where did you get it ? ” 
asked Miss Figgler, with interest, forget- 
ting she was a teacher, and that Mr. Ja- 
cobs never asked questions like that. 

“ Aunt May sent it to me. Oh, do go 
on, Celia. Ask Dot a real hard question.” 

“ New Josey, what is — what is — oh, 
dear me ! I can’t think of things to ask. 
Let me see — oh, I know ! What is the 
Mississippi River called?” asked Miss 
Figgler, having searched her small brain 
to bring up some geographical knowledge. 

“ Oh, that ’s easy!” returned New Jo- 
sey, with much superiority. “ It ’s called 
the ‘ Longer of Waters.’ ” 

“ No, it is n’t. It ’s called the ‘ Father 
of Waters,’ ” corrected Miss Figgler. 

“ I like Longer of Waters best,” per- 
sisted Dorothy. “ I don’t fink it sounds 
right to say it ’s the Farver of Waters,” 
for she had entirely misunderstood the 


Playing School. 


209 


word. “It ’s the longest river ever was 
made, I guess.” 

“Well, I guess prob’ly it is,” answered 
Miss F'iggler, hurrying over this, not feel- 
ing quite sure of her ground. “ Do you 
want to ask any questions, Mr. Minis- 
ter?” with a funny imitation of Mr. 
Jacob’s manner to a visitor. 

“Yes, I do,” returned Mr. Minister, 
anxious to air some newly acquired knowl- 
edge of his own. “ I want to ask the 
gerogerfy class how often presidents are 
selected.” 

But this was a poser, and the geogra- 
phy class looked at each other blankly. 

“We’re going to learn about that to- 
morrow, so I fink,” said Dorothy, after a 
-moment, thus getting out of a tight place. 

“ I ’ll tell you, then,” Mr. Minister said, 
looking very important. “ Presidents are 
selected four times a year. Do you know 
who ’s president now ? ” 

“ George Washington ?” ventured Miss 


210 


Dorothy Dot. 


Figgler, again forgetting she was the 
teacher, and was to ask, not to answer 
questions. The name of Washington and 
“ president ” were dimly associated in her 
mind. 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Minister, hastily. “ The 
class has a very good gerogerfy lesson. Miss 
Figgler. That ’s a bad little girl over there 
on that side, and she ought to stand in the 
corner,” looking severely at Agnes, who 
was giggling. 

So Agnes was led away in disgrace. 

“ Now, I ’ll be very naughty,” she said, 
in great enjoyment, “an’ you must say 
you ’ll send for my father an’ you must 
whip me. Oh ! oh ! oh ! as Miss Fig- 
gler obediently bestowed several gentle 
spats. We all know that in playing school 
part of the fun is in “ playing naughty,” 
no matter how good one really is. So 
Agnes pretended to grow worse and 
worse until Miss .Figgler appealed to the 
minister in despair. 


Playing School. 


21 I 


“ Please come and tend to this bad 
girl, Mr. Minister, for she gets badder an’ 
badder.” 

“ I fink she ’ll have to be dispelled from 
school if she gets any badderer,” said 
Dorothy. 

“What’s her name.f^” inquired Mr. 
Minister, solemnly. 

“ Please, sir, it ’s Polly Gize,” answered 
Miss Figgler. 

“We ’ll have to telefoam to her father,” 
said the minister, looking very stern. 
“Yes, she’ll have to be dispelled to- 
morrow. I ’ll telefoam right away.” 

The children had rigged up a string 
across the hall and through the door of 
Dorothy’s room, which they “ telefoamed ” 
on. The minister climbed upon a chair to 
reach the string. 

“ Mr. Gize,” he called out, very loudly, 
“ your Polly ’s such a bad girl, we ’ve got 
to dispel her out of school. If you can 
make her any better, p’raps she can come 


212 


Dorothy Dot. 


back next year and — ” but here the chair 
tipped, as the small boy leaned too hard 
on the back. He tried to save himself by 
catching at the string, which snapped un- 
der the jerk. 

“ Great Caesar’s Ghost ! the telefoam ’s 
broke ! ” he cried, and teacher and pupils 
rushed to the rescue. He was not hurt 
however, and only demanded more string 
to fix the telephone with. This was im- 
mediately at hand, after an appeal to 
grandma, and the telephone was soon in 
order again. Algie stood upon the chair 
and gave the string a little pull to test 
it. The nail suddenly gave way, and 
down went Algie again, heels over head, 
instead of head over heels, striking the 
fire-screen in his descent, and getting a 
bad blow this time, across his eyebrow, 
from its sharp corner. The blood started 
from the cut, and all the children set up 
another scream that brought grandma 
and Sarah to the rescue. The cut bled 


Playing School. 


213 


freely for a few minutes, but hot water 
and adhesive plaster and a handkerchief 
round his head soon made him all right. 
He was always a plucky little fellow and 
scorned to cry, although he felt consider- 
ably shaken up with both his tumbles. 

“Now you’ll have to play that Algie 
is a soldier and just coming home from 
the war,” grandma suggested, when the 
excitement was over. “ Celia can be the 
mamma, and Dorothy and Agnes his two 
little girls.” 

“ I ’ll be a baby,” said Dorothy, putting 
on a little white cap and a long white 
night-dress of grandma’s. Then she 
climbed up into Celia’s lap. “ Hold me 
up, Celia, and I ’ll say ah-goo-goo, like 
Pansy Violet does when my papa — that’s 
you, Algie, — comes in.” 

“ Here ’s your knapsack,” said grandma, 
giving him a bag. 

“ Hullo,” said grandpa’s voice from the 
doorway, as grandpa himself stopped for 


214 


Dorothy Dot. 


a moment on his way down the hall. 
“ What’s happened to you, my little man ? 
Were the girls too much for you ?” 

“He fell down against the fire-scream, 
and cut his eye-brush,” explained Dorothy, 
sitting up in her little mamma’s lap. “We 
did n’t do a single fing to him. Grandpa, 
truly we didn’t. We’re playing he’s a 
hurted soldier, and he ’s coming home, 
and I ’m a baby, like Pansy Violet. I 
can’t talk. Ah-goo-goo.” 

“ A fine large infant you have there, 
Mrs. Fitzdoodle,” grandpa said, catching 
up the baby and tossing her high up in 
the air amid her delighted shrieks. “ I’m 
sorry for your misfortunes, Mr. Fitz- 
doodle.” 

“ It hurt a lot, but I did n’t cry,’' said 
Mr. Fitzdoodle, proudly.” 

“ Of course you did n’t, my little soldier. 
That’s the stuff brave men are made of.’’ 

“ And here comes Sarah back again.” 
said grandma. “Tea will be ready in five 


Playing School. 215 

minutes. Shall we get ready, little peo- 
ple?” 

A small table was set out for them in 
the corner of the dining-room, and you 
may be sure they brought fine appetites 
to it, and the good things disappeared 
very rapidly under the attacks of the 
wounded soldier and his family. 



CHAPTER XV. 


THE END OF THE YEAR. 

T hat very night a wonderful thing 
happened. It was just nine o’clock 
and Dorothy had long been in the Land- 
o’-Nod. Grandpa had gone to a town- 
meeting, and grandma sat knitting all by 
herself in the sitting-room. It was just a 


The End of the Year. 217 

year since little Dorothy had come to her, 
and she was thinking how short a time it 
would be now before her father and 
mother came home. Indeed, a letter that 
day said they might be home the very 
next week. 

“Dear little Dorothy Dot!” sighed 
grandma. “What shall I do without 
her?” 

Suddenly there came a roll of wheels 
> up the drive, the sound of voices and a 
quick, loud peal of the bell. Grandma, 
with a sudden instinct as to who it was, 
rushed to the door before Sarah could get 
there, and the next moment her son and 
her son’s wife both had their arms around 
her, and such a talking and laughing and 
kissing as followed ! 

And how well and blooming Dorothy’s 
mamma looked ! So strong and bright 
again that grandma could hardly believe 
her own eyes. 

“What a color you have, my dear!” 


21 


Dorothy Dot. 


she kept saying, kissing her daughter’s 
fresh face again and again. 

“ Have n’t I ?” said Dorothy’s mamma, 
laughing. “You see, I felt so much better 
just lately, and got strong so fast, when 
once I began, that I suddenly thought 
I could not stay away any longer from my 
darling little girl. So last week we just 
concluded to pack up and come straight 
home this week instead of next. And 
now I must see my baby right away.” 

“ She ’s getting to be a big girl very 
fast,” said grandma, leading the way. 
“ She ’s growing so rapidly.” 

“Does she still say ‘so I fink?’” asked 
mamma, smiling. 

“ She can’t say ‘ th’ very well yet, ex- 
cept in little words,” said grandma. “ But 
her front teeth are growing in now, and 
she ’ll soon be able to say it. Are you 
sure its best to disturb her to-night ? ” 

“ I should think it was ! ” cried papa 
and mamma together. “ Do you think 


The End of the Year. 


219 


we could wait till to-morrow to see our 
baby ? ” 

So up-stairs they all went. What a 
bewildered Dorothy it was that woke up 
a few minutes later to find herself clasped 
in her own mamma’s arms, with papa try- 
ing to get hold of some part of her, and 
grandma, smiling behind them. Then 
came another hugging and kissing, you 
maybe sure, though Dorothy could hardly 
believe her sleepy little eyes that it was 
really mamma that held her. 

The younger Mr. and Mrs. Hillard had 
promised to spend the summer with 
grandma as usual, so she did not have to 
part with her little granddaughter imme- 
diately. 

“ But I want to keep her always^' 
grandpa said. “ We can’t spare our Dor- 
othy Dot, can we. Grandma ? ” 

“ I ’m glad we do not have to let her 
go, just yet,” answered grandma smiling 
and sighing and kissing Dorothy all at 


2 20 


Dorothy Dot. 


once. “ Think ! we Ve had our little girl a 
whole year ! Dear little Dorothy Dot ! 
Grandma wishes she could keep you 
always.” 

“ I ’ve rawer stay with you than any- 
body but my own mamma an’ papa. I 
love you the bestest of anybody but my 
own favver an’ mower ! ” cried Dorothy, 
hugging dear grandma heartily. ''Nobody 
has such a nice grandma as I have ! ” 




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